


a desert every morning, every night a flood

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bisexuality, California, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Road Trips, Sexuality Crisis, Sharing a Bed, background canon pairing, possibly more Bigfoot discussion than necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: "I'm driving up to Portland," Harry says. "You should come with."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me, rolling into this fandom like five years too late: "I can give one of them a crisis? SOLD."
> 
> (Actually, I feel like this story is much softer than Louis's crisis would really make it sound at first. I hope you enjoy!)

**Monday**

"Quite the sunglasses, there, Styles," Louis says as he gets into the Range Rover.

"One of Gemma's," Harry says proudly. Louis can't give him too much shit for that, then. Bit disappointing. "All you brought, just them two bags?"

Louis tossed his backpack and a weekender into the back, next to Harry's actual suitcase, several satchels, and guitar. "Yeah? Were you thinking it'll take us three weeks to get up the coast, or what?"

Harry shrugs, easy, his arms and all the skin Louis can see not covered by his loose vest are as tan as ever, a part-time resident not afraid of the California sun, unlike all the actors Louis sees going about LA who are religious about their hats and sun cream. Harry looks like he's been living in the pool. And he's grown his hair out again, not quite to the length it was on their last tour, but enough that it covers the back of his neck and falls forward like a curtain when his head tips forward as he touches things on his phone where it's in a mount on the dash.

Louis this afternoon had only finger-combed his hair after getting into joggers and a tee, so he could pick Freddie up from school and say goodbye. Every time, he wonders if Freddie's used to this, to Louis dropping in for weeks and then being gone again. He's spent longer here this summer than usual, all the way through Freddie starting kindergarten. 

Then Harry had called out of the blue last week, and asked Louis if he was flying back to England anytime soon, and did he want to drive up the coast with Harry and fly out of Portland? "Like in Oregon? Where are you going up there?" Louis asked. 

"Got some studio time."

"Yeah?"

"Could just drive, and look around a few places, stay kind of out of the way." He means _stay where we likely won't be recognized_ , and while Louis doesn't have all that much trouble with that anymore, Harry still does sometimes. 

He thought about what upcoming obligations he had. "And you'll drive?"

"I will drive."

So now Harry is here, idling the car outside of Louis's house that Harry's never actually been inside of. "I thought we'd take the coastal highway," he says, as Louis adjusts the belt. "I checked, and there aren't any washouts right now, or else we'll get rerouted back to the 101."

"You're the one driving," Louis says. "I haven't booked a flight. Thought I'd suss that part out when we got closer."

"So we could… drive wherever." Harry smiles as he says it, thumping the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

"If you'd ever get going," Louis points out, but Harry's smile only gets wider before he yanks the Range Rover into the driving lane. 

Louis grabs Harry's phone where it's plugged in, then realizes he no longer knows Harry's passcode. "What's the number?"

"Already you're kicking me off my own music?" Harry sounds very falsely offended, but gives Louis the unlock code, and Louis scrolls through his playlists. "I made a whole playlist for this trip!"

"Got time, don't we?" Louis settles on Crowded House, and they listen without talking for most of the album, and by then they're mostly out of the city proper. Harry still hunches over the steering wheel too much, in Louis's opinion, bottom lip stuck out as he navigates the afternoon traffic, both of them singing along to the parts they know. 

"Pick something else," Harry says as the last song ends, as Louis is still thinking about the lyrics. 

"What do you want?"

"If I didn't like something, it wouldn't be on there, so whatever's good."

Louis shrugs and grabs Harry's phone again, humming bits of "Time Immemorial" under his breath as he skims through the albums, eyes catching on a familiar face. "Got Niall's on here?"

"Got all of yours," Harry says, not taking his eyes off the road as traffic slows down again. "Of course I do."

Louis feels a bit warm at that. "Well."

Harry pulls off the highway in Arroyo Grande a couple hours later, citing a need for a wee and a stretch, and for some food. "Where shall we stop?" Louis asks, leaning to look at the map on Harry's phone.

"There's an In-n-Out."

"Definitely."

Harry grins and swings into the turn lane. 

Out of the car, Louis stretches with a groan, catching his joggers before they slip down further and eyeing Harry as he does some sort of weird leaning-forward stretch with his arms crossed. "You still doing the yoga?"

"Trying." Harry rolls himself very slowly upright and stretches his arms above his head. His shirt rides up, and Louis notes absently that Harry's still not over the insanely low-slung skinnies, and also that if he's wearing anything under them, it's skimpy. And he's obviously shaved some. "Ugh, should have stopped to stretch before now."

Louis hums in agreement, reaching into the car to grab his hoodie in case the cooling inside is insane. Then he settles a cap on his head, and they go in and join the queue. 

"Still remember the first time we ate at one of these," Harry says, once they've gotten their burgers and found a table. 

"Think Payno had some Top Ten Things to Do in LA list or summat," Louis replies, grinning at the memory. "Top fifteen maybe, and the only thing we did off it was get fast food and think we were slick ordering off the fake secret menu."

Harry points at him with a skinny fry. "That addition to this memory is _too_ obscure."

"Yeah, yeah, don't ask me what else was on his dumb list." Louis shakes a bit of tomato off his finger and wipes his hands, then leans back. The place is busy - mostly kids younger than them ( _you're not kids anymore_ , the little voice in his head scolds, _no matter that being with him makes you feel about twenty again_ ) and a few families. No one's so much as glanced at them. The teenager who'd taken their order had just looked bored in his paper hat. 

It's not that Louis expects to get recognized as much as he used to, but for Harry's last album there'd been billboards and giant posters papered on buildings, a close-up of his face with a metallic swirl of paint crossing his forehead and going over one eye, and colored chalk streaks in his hair. It was a look, for sure. Louis had only caught sight of one in person, during a brief visit with Freddie right after the album dropped and Harry was in New York City doing Saturday Night Live, but plenty of their mutual friends had put various shots of the billboards on Instagram, mostly to make fun of Harry.

The album was good. It had done well. Louis was happy for Harry.

Harry rattles the ice in his cup. "Alright, one more pee, then back on the road. Unless you need something from the Wal-Mart over there."

"No."

Harry shakes his cup once more, then slides out of the booth. Louis dumps their garbage and heads outside to call Freddie for their evening chat, even though he'd seen Freddie that afternoon. Bri's mobile goes to voicemail, which usually means they're eating dinner or Freddie's in the bath. 

Louis leaves a short message. "Everything okay?" Harry asks, coming up next to him, taking his sunglasses down from his hair and hooking them onto the neck of his shirt. A streak of orange evening light cuts across his body. 

"Everything's fine, I phone every night when I can, just to say goodnight."

"That's sweet." Harry pulls at Louis's hoodie strings, giving a dopey smile. "Guess we can go."

  


Louis had been worried this would be a bit awkward, hours spent in the car with Harry when it's been a very long time since he spent hours with Harry. They've crossed America together, but not like this, only the two of them in a small space with just music for an excuse not to talk. 

The highway creeps on up the coast, and as the sun sets, the view of the ocean starts to be obscured by tall pine trees in longer and longer stretches until they're in what Louis is sure must be the state park proper. Harry seems to be concentrating quite carefully on the one-lane road, which is fine with Louis, as he can close his eyes for a bit and listen to the Emmylou Harris album that Harry picked last.

"I need crisps," Louis announces, when he opens his eyes again and sees the sign for the service station. "Take the next one, yeah?"

It's not so much an exit as it is a building right next to the highway, and the angled parking faces the other direction, so Harry has to do a weird turn. There's only one other car parked at the station, but the windows are lit, so Louis figures it's open.

He's looking at the sodas, weighing his thirst against making yet another stop to wee, when "What Makes You Beautiful" starts playing over the speakers, tinny and sort of scratchy over the store's old system, and he looks up at the ceiling in disbelief. Then he looks at Harry, who's stopped, frozen in front of the rack of tourist brochures.

Harry loses it laughing first, bending at the waist, his whole body shaking. 

"Quit laughing, people are staring," Louis hisses - or tries to hiss, as he can feel the urge to laugh gripping him round the middle, breath suddenly hard to catch. 

He grabs some crisps without really looking at what kind they are. Harry fumbles some cash for their purchases to the baffled clerk, and they stumble into the parking lot. Louis is unable to hold back his laughter for real now, and Harry's grip is tight as he clutches at Louis's arm, still wheezing. "Of all the places," Harry gasps out. "I think it's a sign."

The music is fuzzy but still audible outside the small building. They're at a mid-forest pitstop and it's late, and Louis thinks nothing of gripping Harry round the waist and whirling him towards the car. Harry moves easily enough, and they're halfway tripping, halfway dancing across the battered pavement. Harry hugs him tightly when they reach the Range Rover, and Louis doesn't want to do anything but hug him back just as tight, so he does, crisps bag knocking into Harry's back. 

"I fucking missed you," Harry says against his neck, grip staying firm, and Louis thinks if there ever was a time and place for this - when better than nearly midnight at a service station that's almost the only thing at this entire highway pull-off, with the moon above them hanging full through the trees, and the one flickering neon sign casting strange shadows. He tangles his free hand in Harry's hair just like he used to, and they stand next to the car for another few minutes, holding on to each other.

Harry wipes at his eyes when he steps back. "Went so long without telling you that, felt like I'd never have a good time to say it."

"Felt like that more than a few times meself," Louis admits. He chucks the crisps into the car through the open back window. "Well, fucking - fuck it, come back here."

This time he's the one dragging Harry in, sliding one hand round the back of Harry's neck, the other arm tight around Harry's ribs, and this time neither of them are laughing. Harry's still sniffling a bit and Louis feels like he could get weepy as well, if Harry says anything else that's too true again, if he says anything else that will land right where Louis is the most tender. 

But Harry doesn't say anything else, only thumbs gently behind Louis's ear for a few moments before they move apart and get back in the car. Louis eats his crisps to Emmylou singing and watches the dark forest pass, the only light their headlamps. 

Eventually the winding road and trees give way to longer stretches of straight pavement bordered by dark grassy hills that look almost ominous in the moonlight. Louis offers to drive for a while, but Harry says they've only got another half hour to go, so Louis just watches the exit signs pass by the flash of their headlights until there's one that Harry takes, GPS guiding him to their hotel for the night. It's nondescript, individual room doors facing the parking lot, and Louis sits in the car trying not to worry at a hangnail as Harry checks in with the night clerk. He's rubbing at the red bit of his thumb when Harry comes back. "All set?"

"We're, uh - right down there," Harry says, pointing a few doors down.

It's a utilitarian room with two beds and a television, and Louis likes it immediately for how opposite it is from everything he's gotten used to. They get ready for bed in a comfortable-seeming silence, the old muscle memory of moving around each other kicking in, making it easy. Louis slides between the cool sheets of his chosen bed with a yawn, suddenly worn out. 

"Sure you don't want to go to the aquarium in the morning?" Harry asks, putting his phone and all his rings and bracelets on the nightstand between their beds. He's in just pants, all shadows in the dark of the room, and Louis finds the shape of him is still familiar even though he hasn't seen Harry like this in a long time. 

"You go. I'll have a lie-in. And then meet you there."

"It's a forty minute walk from here," Harry laughs, voice soft. 

Louis is busy closing his eyes and tugging the sheet where he wants it. "You walk, and I'll drive down to fetch you," he says, not entirely expecting Harry to agree.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Be a nice way to wake up." There's a rustle of sheets as Harry gets situated. "Just text when you're on the way. And then we'll get some lunch. Night, Lou."

"Night, babe," Louis sighs, and falls asleep not long after.

  


  


**Tuesday**

Harry's gone when Louis wakes up the next morning, the sky grey where he can see it through the gap in the curtains. The room has coffee service at least, so he can make an underwhelming cup of tea and steal one or two of Harry's granola bars before washing up, and after that he texts Harry to find out where he's at.

_meet u by the kelp forest, it's right when u come in ___

Louis still mostly hates driving in America, but he gets down to the bay just fine, and then has to find a parking garage to leave Harry's car in. It looks like it might rain as he walks the few blocks to the aquarium, and there aren't too many other people about, but it's a weekday in September. 

He buys a ticket from a cheerful volunteer and grabs a map. The exhibit Harry said he'd be at is straight ahead, and when Louis steps into the room, he sees Harry sitting on one of the benches, watching the tank. Louis sits down next to him and Harry offers a smile. "Hey."

"Hey. What's this?" 

"Kelp forest," Harry says, bobbing his head. "Nice to look at, innit?"

Louis looks, and watches the ropes of kelp sway slightly in the water, as fish dart in and out between the leaves, strands, whatever they're called. It is rather relaxing to look at. Harry bumps their shoulders together lightly, then leans against him. "Sharks and everything," he says after a few minutes.

"Just little ones in here though, right?"

"Can't keep proper sharks in an aquarium," Harry replies, and Louis grins at him because he'd only been messing about. A leopard shark glides through as if on cue, and Louis has to admit it's beautiful. 

They sit on the bench a while longer, leaning comfortably against one another, until Harry says, "Should look at a few more things, since you bought a ticket."

"Haven't you gone all the way through yet?"

"Not all the way. I wouldn't mind looking again."

Louis makes a mental note to listen to Harry's future music with an ear towards fish references, and agrees easily enough. There are people about, but everyone's focused on the exhibits, and it seems dim enough that anyone just glancing at them won't get enough of a look at their faces to really recognize either of them. So they wander through, peering through the plexiglass at the octopus, then looking at the kelp forest from the other side before watching the rehabilitated birds hop around the aviary. 

"You put your hand in?" he asks Harry as they come up on the stingray pool.

"I did. Seem pretty tame, really."

"I wonder if Freddie would like it," Louis muses, looking into the water where the bat rays are circling. He slips a hand in and one of the rays comes up, brushing against his fingertips, softer than Louis expected. "Ah, that's neat."

Harry grins and pushes his hair back out of his face. Louis pets the ray for a moment longer, then moves on to give the older couple standing next to him a turn. He wipes his hand off on his joggers and sees Harry over at the other touch pool, looking down at a sea urchin.

"That I won't be touching," he says, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder for a second. He hears Harry's stomach rumble. "Lunch?"

"There's a restaurant here, if you want. You can see the sea otters on the way."

The sea otters look pretty lazy to Louis, rolling around on the rocks of their habitat. One is in the water, and they watch it swim around for a few minutes. "Must be a good life," Harry says.

"Looks chill to me."

A group of children run up, very excited, so Louis and Harry step back and head for the restaurant. Louis's stomach is also making angry noises; the pilfered granola bars definitely hadn't cut it. They get food and sit down at a small table near a window. There's a nice view of the water from here, and down in the aquarium's small cove Louis can see little boats floating and people who he assumes are the biologists who work here.

"You spend all summer here, without El?" Harry asks once they're mostly finished eating. He rubs a napkin between his fingers, then crumples it into a ball and tosses it in Louis's direction. 

That's the question Louis has been waiting for since Harry picked him up. "We're on a bit of a break," he mutters, and Harry makes his _okay, and?_ face. 

Louis remembers being nineteen, sitting on Aiden's lap, with Aiden's hand on the inside of Harry's thigh like a dare. Remembers the very heady impulse to turn his head enough to press his mouth against Aiden's; it wouldn't take much to reach the right angle. But there were so many other people crammed into the room that the embarrassment of wanting something so desperately at such an inopportune time was the strongest thing he could feel, coming over him so quickly that he can still feel it all these years later. 

He remembers being caught by Aiden's hands more than once, his stomach swooping hot with anticipation, only for someone else to say "you boys know there's a camera right there" - it was always a gentle reminder, _there's a camera_ , every time, and they'd turn it into a bit of clowning or a tussle. They were always so busy and so terrified of elimination that there was hardly any time for Louis to figure it out in his own mind, and he was always so knackered that even playing back the way Aiden looked at him, trying to decide what it meant, wasn't enough to keep him from passing the fuck out every night. And then everything had taken off so fast. He feels like it's a stupid excuse, to say he never had the time to properly sort out his feelings, but if they weren't performing, they were doing promo, and if they weren't doing promo, they were trying to get caught up on sleep, and when Louis wasn't sleeping he was generally getting fucked up with Zayn, which had proved to be a decent way of avoiding all the things he didn't want to think about dealing with when he already had a girlfriend he liked going to bed with.

He'd almost asked Zayn once, if he liked boys, but as he'd been about to ask, Zayn's phone rang with Perrie's picture flashing across the screen, and Louis remembers shutting his mouth so hard it hurt.

He's never actually asked Harry about how close they'd been with Aiden at bootcamp, even though he's had a thousand chances. Harry, who's sitting right here across from him, putting down his sandwich to lean in a little and widen his eyes at Louis. "Tommo? You okay?"

"Me and El are on a break," Louis repeats, stronger this time, less of a mumble. He clears his throat. "I had - I have - things I needed to figure out. For me."

Harry nods. Louis picks at what's left of his chips and wishes he could get a couple beers in, but it's barely two in the afternoon, and he's sure getting trashed at an aquarium would be a bad look. "So what's left to see?" he asks Harry, deliberately changing the subject, and Harry pretends he doesn't know what Louis is doing and opens the map to spread it out next to their trays.

  


Into the dark of the hotel room that night, Louis says, "I love you but I'm still jealous sometimes."

Harry doesn't say anything at first, and Louis would wonder if he's already asleep and the words have gone unnoticed, but he can hear Harry turning in the bed, the sound of his body against the sheets almost loud in the otherwise silent room.

"You don't have to come up with something to say that won't hurt my feelings," Louis adds after a minute. "It's fine, yeah? Really it is."

Harry's still quiet. Louis turns his head and sees that Harry's looking directly at him, head on the pillow, gaze calm like he was only waiting for Louis to look in his direction. "Glad you still trust me enough to say those sorts of things," Harry says, after long enough that Louis starts to feel squirmy. "Honesty, and all that."

If Louis said that, it would come across as nothing short of flippant, but Harry's intent is clear in his voice. Louis clears his throat, looks up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at Harry, and says "Well, if you can't trust the people you lived in pockets with, who can you?"

Harry makes a soft agreeable sound. "Love you too," he murmurs.

Louis lies awake for a long time still after that.

  


  


**Wednesday**

Harry prods him out of bed just before check-out. Louis grumbles his way into the car with his bag as Harry goes to settle up, but recovers a bit when Harry brings him a paper cup of tea, plain. "Where to now?" Louis asks, yawning hugely.

"The Mission," Harry says firmly. He pulls up the directions on his phone. "It's not too far."

He looks at Louis then, raising a brow. "Alright?"

Louis is sleepy, and doesn't much care. "Whatever you want to do. Get me an egg muffin or something."

Harry finds a drive-thru, and Louis gets breakfast, and feels much better about the world when he's done. "Is there a tour at this Mission, or do we wander like at the Aquarium?"

"I think it's self-guided." Harry drums his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music - Fleetwood Mac, Louis notes absently - then says, "I can drop you at a shop, if you don't want to come with."

"Yeah, yeah, already said I would." 

Harry smiles at that, brilliantly, and it's so unexpected and beautiful that Louis is breathless for a second, stunned. Then he manages, "Put the dimples away, Styles, God," grumbling it into the plastic lid of his cup. Harry outright giggles. Louis's stomach swoops at making Harry react like that, like he hasn't in years, and the next second the memory slams into him, cold and hard.

"We've had all these conversations about getting married," Eleanor said, when Louis found her packing a bag in their bedroom, and Louis nearly recoiled at the tone of her voice. "But something's - I know what you're like when you're _present_ , Louis, and you're not. Something's…"

She made an indecipherable gesture, her hand turning in the air. Her gaze was as sharp as he'd ever seen. "Closure, maybe. I see you better than anyone, you know it. And you're a right proper mess, even if you don't know it yourself."

He felt like all the blood had drained from his face and neck, and his throat was tight, his palms clammy. "What do - what do I do?"

She didn't look at him again as she folded a shirt. There was a flush settled high in her cheeks, and Louis thought maybe she'd practiced saying all of this. She put the shirt in the bag. "Go be with Freddie for the summer. Sort your shit out."

He'd gone, and now he's in Harry's car, promised to travel to Portland. He looked it up: a thousand miles, even if Harry took the most direct route. Which Harry isn't.

"Meant it when I said I missed you," Harry says. He reaches a hand out to squeeze Louis's arm. His palm is warm and Louis stares down at Harry's hand until Harry takes it away. "So we'll do the Mission, then get something to eat and drive a bit more, and there's a couple more beaches we could probably stop at today before getting to Healdsburg."

Louis has never heard of Healdsburg. "Did you throw darts at a map?" 

"Tried to figure places we wouldn't get noticed," Harry chuckles. 

"Can't argue with that."

Harry turns into a parking lot, and Louis looks at the adobe roof stretching in front of them. "We're here?"

"Thought I said it wasn't far." Harry thumps his knee without much force. "Too late now for me to drop you off somewhere else."

Louis finishes off his tea. "Lead on, babe."

They give the requested donation, and go through to the first - stop, exhibit, Louis isn't sure what to call it. Harry's got the map and he steps up to the display, reading the information placard with an interested expression on his face. 

Louis doesn't much care, but he could watch Harry's face like this all day, so it's fine. He looks at the artifacts and reads the placards, and neither of them say very much. It doesn't really feel like the sort of place to be having mundane conversations - and judging from the other few tourists Louis sees, most everyone seems to have the same idea. 

In the cemetery, Harry's expression is considering and careful, and Louis can practically see the wheels spinning in his head. "Is your next album going to be about squid and saints, then?" he asks, quietly and close to Harry's ear. 

Harry laughs, loud and joyful in the tree-shaded space, the sound reverberating. Louis can't help but grin at him. Everything about Harry in this instant is so open, from the way his head is tilted back as he laughs, to the way he grips Louis's elbow like he needs something to hold on to, that Louis finally stops feeling so much like he wants to curl in on himself. 

That's at least something, because Louis also feels like there are a dozen questions swirling in his head, not to mention feeling like he's too old to be having this crisis, _fuck_.

"Might do," Harry says once he's settled a bit, and tucks his arm through Louis's. 

Louis is stuck now, and can't trail behind Harry just to watch him. They look at the rest of the exhibits and read the information together, then sit for a few minutes in the courtyard while Harry writes things in his battered notebook that he won't let Louis look at. "Not yet, it's just notes right now," he says, holding the notebook close to his chest.

"I'll read it while you sleep," Louis declares, even though he won't.

In the gift shop, Harry looks closely at all of the art, then at the glass case of rosaries while a volunteer hovers nearby. Louis stands in front of the display of icons, mostly pretending to look at them, so Harry can do his thing. Harry buys a saint medal, Louis doesn't catch which one, and then sticks his hand in Louis's hoodie pocket and tugs lightly. "Ready?"

"For lunch, I hope you mean. And I need more tea, Harry. Get me more tea."

"Ugh, you're so demanding." Harry flicks his hoodie strings. "Get me more tea, Harry, drive me to Portland, Harry, where's my breakfast sandwich, Harry."

"I'm going to punch you in the dick, seriously."

Harry covers his crotch with both hands and pretends to look wounded. 

"You know I'm immune to that look," Louis adds, and Harry opens his eyes even wider, clutching at Louis's waist. "You're a monster, Styles. And you just left your nads uncovered for the sake of looking all dramatic."

The threat works. Harry dashes for the car.

  


"You're not going to go starkers, are you?" Louis asks as Harry squeezes into a precarious parking slot, his tongue sticking out between his teeth the whole time.

"Not that sort of beach. Well, not this part." Harry squints through the windshield, then points north. "Website did say to go that way if you sunbathe in the nude."

"Still wouldn't put it past you." 

Harry flashes him a grin at that and wiggles out of the car in the tiny space he'd left himself. Louis has a bit more room on the passenger side, but it's close, and he cups a hand over the edge of the door to avoid dinging the Trailblazer next to them. Even though Harry could afford fixing it. "Oi, next time don't park like such a fuck," he calls to Harry, who's already standing at the top of the trail down to the beach, camera in hand.

It's not all that warm, and the wind whips at Louis's hoodie enough that he has to hold it by the sides, next to his chin. The sky here is gray and misty, and when the sun does break through, it's a clear light and fleeting. They dodge a few people getting down the footpath, but then it's simple to find a wide open space to stand and watch the ocean. 

"Bit cold today to lie out in the nude," Harry murmurs in his ear, his body a warm line against Louis's side, a buffer against the wind where it breaks against them. 

"A bit," Louis echoes solemnly, and Harry snorts a laugh before lifting his camera. Louis isn't too sure what there is to take pictures of. The color of the sky and the color of the sea are close today, shading more towards pale grey than the vibrant blue he'd always seen in the Hollywood pictures growing up. The tops of the waves are foamy where they slosh up against the sand. 

They don't stay very long, walking up the beach so Harry can take some pictures of the grasses waving above them on the dunes, and crouch down to get close up shots of the kelp that's washed up in a few places. "Looks sort of alien," he says, more to the sand or his camera than to Louis.

"Yeah, does."

Harry stands up and nudges him gently. "Alright, we'll go."

"If you wanted to take pictures of a grey sky, you could have done that in England," Louis says, chuckling.

"Got an album to worry about first." Harry digs the toe of his boot into the sand for a moment, overturning a few small shells. "But then probably, yeah. Could do with a trip home."

Louis watches Harry take a picture of the shells. Then Harry hooks their arms together, and pulls Louis back towards the path up to the car.

  


They're having dinner when Louis's phone rings, his daily phone call with Freddie. "I'm gonna take this outside," he says to Harry as he slides out of the booth, and Harry gestures for him to go.

Freddie has half a dozen school things he wants to tell Louis about, and not for the first time, Louis hopes that Freddie can do better in school than he did, that he won't be so easily distracted from his lessons. Then Freddie tells him about the new ice cream shop that Bri and John took him to, with "a hundred flavors, Dad!", and so many toppings. 

"Yeah, what did you get?" Louis asks, hopping up to sit on the hood of the Range Rover. 

Through the window of the restaurant he can see Harry, messing about on his phone, looking relaxed. They'd stopped at another beach after the first one and Harry had taken a few more pictures, then held his phone out for a selfie. "You want in on this?" he asked Louis. "I won't put it up anywhere, at least not right away."

"Sure," Louis said, and they'd grinned at the camera while the wind whipped hair into their eyes, grey sky for a background. Then he frowned at Harry. "Does anyone know where we are? I mean, if something were to happen."

"I'm under orders to check in with Jeff every day, and I told Ben sort of what I was doing, and the security service that watches my house knows how to get in touch." Harry lifted both brows. "Sufficient?"

"Yeah - wait, _sort of_ what you were doing?"

"I didn't say I was going with you. Thought that might invite more questions than I had answers for," he said, his hair falling out of the clip and over his face as he bent to scoop up a shell, and Louis felt that was fair. 

"That sounds great, kiddo," he says, when Freddie reports that he got gummy worms and marshmallows on top of something that sounds to Louis like it's made of food coloring and not much else. 

Freddie talks earnestly for a few more minutes about the kids in his class, then says he has to go brush his teeth, and Louis looks at the clock on his phone in surprise. He always forgets how early kids eat dinner - Bri had gotten on his case about that once, when Freddie was younger, and cranky because he was ready to eat even though it was barely past five. "Love you, Fred," Louis murmurs in response to Freddie's goodbyes, and the call disconnects. 

Louis looks up again and sees Harry watching him from inside. He waves, sort of stupidly, but Harry only smiles, an image that's then dissolved by the flash of running lights as a car turns into the lot. Louis thinks about smoking while he's out here, but he's trying to cut back even further for Freddie, and by now he's seen too many adverts against forest fires to want to light up where there's not one of the disposal things close by. 

He goes back in. "Nice chat?" Harry asks, taking a sip from an honest teacup, the kind with matching saucer. Louis hadn't thought this to be that sort of place. He reaches over and pulls Harry's hand close enough that he can get a sniff. Herbal shit, but Harry likes it.

"He's full of school stories already," Louis answers belatedly. "And ice cream."

Harry's face lights up. "There's a shop up around the corner from here. We should go."

"What about your tea." Louis jerks his chin at Harry's cup, but Harry's mind is already gone that couple blocks away. It's almost as though he'd been waiting for the proper time to spring the suggestion, and Louis gave him the perfect opening. 

"Are we, or are we not on holiday?" 

Louis still isn't sure what this is besides him having more feelings about things than he bargained for. He doesn't say that, though, only holds up his hands. "I won't turn down an ice cream shop, mate."

Harry fist-pumps. "Yes!"

"Was that what you were doing on your mobile?"

"That's… a possibility."

Louis rolls his eyes and reaches for Harry's cup, but after taking another whiff he decides it's really not the sort he wants to drink. Harry rolls his eyes in return. 

They settle up with the restaurant, and Harry declares they can walk to the shop, "after all that sitting in the car today, Lou." Louis points out that they did a pretty good job of breaking up the drive, even if it was mostly beaches for Harry to take pictures at. 

"'cause I had a _plan_ ," Harry says smugly.

"You did not, you threw darts."

"I didn't!" Harry punches him in the arm, not very hard, and Louis slaps at him in return. "Should be just up here."

The shop has pie as well as ice cream. Harry steps to the counter and orders something that sounds like a lot of fruit while Louis holds back, eyeing the menu. 

"Is this too many choices for you," Harry says, dry. He sticks a spoonful of the vibrantly pink sorbet in his mouth. Louis is almost startled by the casual sensuality of it, Harry very clearly unaware of the current picture he makes, tonguing the curve of the spoon. Which is almost funny, Louis thinks, since Harry's usually quite aware of the effect he has on people. 

Harry raises his eyebrows. "You want a bite of this?"

"Yeah, sure." 

It's sweeter than Louis expects, raspberry and something else. "That's alright."

Harry grins. "You don't like it. Go get your usual."

There's a straight mint, and an Oreo, so Louis gets a scoop of each. They walk back to the hotel slowly. Harry peers into most of the shop windows. "Kind of old-fashioned looking, for America," he chuckles. 

"Faking that quaint look, you mean."

Harry rolls his eyes and stops in front of an antique store, where an array of old cameras is displayed in the window. "G'luck finding film," Louis points out.

"Don't really buy these to use," Harry says, his face close to the glass like how Freddie would squint in. He sucks more sorbet off the spoon. "Mostly to look old on a shelf."

Louis feels rather brazen, standing in front of the hotel as they finish off their ice creams, with no one caring that they're there. There's not even another person on the street except for so far off that even a shout would barely be heard. It's a strange feeling. He supposes Harry did a decent job after all of figuring out places they might not be recognized. 

He's not going to tell Harry that, though.

"Pool?" he asks Harry once they're up in their room.

"It did look deserted."

Harry swims actual laps while Louis floats. He looks quite determined about it, which is annoying. Louis grabs his ankle after a while and tugs him under, laughing while Harry sputters. "Aren't we meant to be relaxing?" Louis asks.

"I can't get my workout in?" Harry answers. He grins, then lunges forward and shoves Louis down. They tussle for a moment, which never works too well in water, Harry's hands and feet sliding all over him as they both try to dunk the other. 

Louis heaves himself up and onto the edge after a while, panting. Harry floats on his back with his eyes open, looking up at the high ceiling above them. "Good day so far?" he calls to Louis.

"Not bad." Louis splashes at him, but half-heartedly, and the arc of water doesn't get anywhere near where Harry is in the pool.

"You don't have to tell me," Harry says, when they've decided they're prunes, and are stepping into the elevator. He hitches the towel tighter around his hips. "Whatever the problem is. But it sort of seems like you might want to."

Louis can't help his squirm, reflected uncomfortably back at him in the shiny metal of the car walls, and Harry adds quickly, "Or I could shut up about it."

Louis almost wishes Harry would, and leave him to pick at his own feelings alone so that he could ignore the worst of them when it hurt too much, but maybe telling someone wouldn't be terrible. "I - yeah, okay, once we're dressed." 

This isn't the sort of conversation he wants to have while Harry's mostly naked. 

"Guess I should start at the beginning," he says, when they're in the room and he's in his pyjamas, and Harry's pulled on some ugly joggers with the towel now wrapped around his head. 

"A good place."

"Shut it."

Harry shuts it, and Louis sits down on the edge of his bed, facing away from Harry. It's only a plain wall in front of him, good to stare at while he does his best to unravel the memory, carried only in his head for five thousand miles across an ocean and all of the States, make it into a proper story to tell Harry. 

At the pub: Someone stepped up to the bar next to him; it wasn't El already back from the loo. It was a guy, tall and lean in basic jeans and a t-shirt. Louis's gaze caught on the guy's tattoo, arresting where it snaked out from under his sleeve down his arm, a cascade of different feathers in a whole array of colors. "That's a sweet tat," he said.

"Thanks," the guy said, twisting his arm a bit, so Louis could see that the feathers circled all the way around. Light caught on his stud earrings where they weren't quite hidden under shaggy brown hair. He said, "Elbow bit was tricky."

"I bet."

The guy leaned over the bar, trying to catch the tender's eye, but she was down at the other end mixing something. He didn't seem bothered, though. He turned towards Louis again. Louis caught a whiff of cigarettes, a sweeter tobacco than what he smoked himself. The guy tilted a hand towards Louis's bottle. "I see you've got a fresh beer so I won't offer, but would you maybe want to dance with me?"

Louis felt like he was caught out looking at the eye of the feather inked into the soft skin of the guy's inner upper arm. A rush of heat ran through him, followed by an ice-cold fear that made a gross sweat prickle at the back of his neck. He _wanted_ to, had a split-second flash of what it might feel like to be in the crowd out on the dance floor, body pressed to the offered one in front of him, moving to the slow beat of the song that's pouring through the speakers, the perfect tempo for hands to rest on rolling hips in a prelude for what would come later. 

"Sorry," he breathed out, "but I'm here with my girl."

The guy smiled. It definitely didn't reach his eyes. "No problem, mate," he said, quick hand sliding so fast down Louis's arm that Louis wondered later if he'd imagined it, before he slipped down to the other end of the bar. Louis turned away, raising his beer so that he could wet his suddenly dry mouth. 

Eleanor came through the crowd then, her lipstick freshly applied. "You haven't even moved at all," she said. And there must have been something on his face, because she paused before coming up close to him. "Something wrong?"

"No," Louis said immediately. Then: "I don't - not _wrong_ , exactly."

"Well, what?" She leaned around him to pick up her martini, calling "ta, Louisa!" to the bartender. "Babe?"

"Guy asked me to dance."

"And?"

They haven't had any secrets in a long time, but Louis didn't even know how to phrase this to himself, much less El. "Just didn't expect it, is all."

"Well, you are quite fit, darling, can't fault a person for looking." She pressed a vodka-wet kiss to the corner of his mouth. "He recognize you?"

"Nah, don't think so." 

Some of their friends came over then, saying they'd found a table most everyone would fit at, and Louis had enough beers to put the guy with feathers tattoo out of his head for the night. 

"I never did stop thinking about it," he tells Harry, staring down at his hands and rubbing the sore spot on his thumb. That same heat rises again in his chest. He lets his head hang forward and says, "I fucking... I wanked, thinking about what it would have been, to go home with him. And then I fucking cried about it in't shower after." 

"Sounds like the sort of thing that's alright to have a cry over," Harry says softly. 

Louis sighs. "Thought I could forget about the whole thing, you know? That it'd get smaller. Until it went away."

He twists, turning to see what sort of stupid face Harry's making at him, but Harry's sitting at the small table, tracing a finger over the smooth surface, and his face looks the same as ever. "Say something," Louis snaps.

Harry looks up at that. "Didn't go away, did it," he says, and it's so painfully not a question that Louis slumps, sagging like someone's just cut him down from somewhere. _Never went away_ , the little voice in his head says, taunting. 

He swallows, hard, has to drag in a breath. "Only got bigger."

"So you came to fuck about Los Angeles until you figured it out." Harry leans back in the chair - sprawls back, quickly, making the joins in the wood creak loudly. 

"I haven't figured out shit," Louis mutters. He turns back around to scrub his palms over his face, then look at the wall again. "Aren't I too old for this bullshit, Harry? Too old to see someone in a club and think about fucking them. When I've already got someone to go home with."

It's a pale front to what he's avoiding. He knows it, and Harry clearly knows it. "You know, I even asked myself years ago, when - when people thought all that stuff about us. _Do you fancy Harry, Louis? Nah, he's my mate, don't really want to shag him_." 

He hears Harry's stifled laugh at that. There's a lull for a moment, and then Harry says, "I can't spell it out for you."

"I know. Not asking you to, only..."

"Thinking it out aloud."

"Yeah." 

"Can I come give you a hug?" 

Louis laughs, wetly, and presses a hand to his mouth. "Yeah, sure."

Harry crawls over the bed and wraps himself around Louis from behind like a blanket, arms around Louis's waist, and Louis feels Harry's chin come to rest on his shoulder. The sudden quiet is like a weight, pressing down onto Louis from all angles, but it's not smothering, just there, and Louis breathes into it. Harry's hair brushes his face. "I'm sorry you're having a hard time of it, Tommo."

"Is what it is," Louis mutters, his breath hitching. "God, I don't want to have a fucking cry over this."

Harry hugs him tighter in response.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thursday**

Louis is woken rudely by Harry landing on him, all annoying elbows and knees even through the blankets. "Ugh, get off," he grumbles, trying to wiggle away.

"It's check-out time." Harry drops a loud smacking kiss on his cheek, but then settles down against him, trapping Louis under the sheet. Louis can feel Harry's breath soft against the side of his neck. 

"Not checking out then?" he asks after neither of them have moved for a while. 

"Could stay another night. I asked, the room's not booked."

"Alright." It's an easy answer. 

They lie there until Louis needs tea and wiggles out from under Harry's arm to go use the toilet and wash up. As they eat a late breakfast, Harry looks up things to do on his phone. "Looks like wineries and shops," he says. "We could mostly walk around later, in case we get drunk."

"Still don't really like wine, but okay." It'll be a new experience, and Harry looks pleased about it. Louis likes it when Harry looks happy. 

They drive a short distance to the first winery that came up on Harry's search. It's not very busy, and most everyone else there looks to be about twice their age. People on vacation, Louis supposes. Harry pulls the top half of his hair back and wears a floppy sort of hat, looking ridiculous as he listens intently to what the person pouring out the mouthfuls of wine has to say. Louis doesn't care at all, but sips gamely, and listens to Harry ask fifteen thousand questions.

He's thinking idly about the lyrics he'd written down while standing in the loo last night, after he cried on Harry's shirt, when Harry says, "You getting anything?"

Louis hadn't realized they were done. "And what, fly it home?"

"They ship," Harry laughs. 

"You know you're lucky I know red from white," Louis points out. "So no, not getting anything."

Harry buys a few bottles to give to people working at this Portland studio he's going to, and they drive to the next winery to do it all over again. By the fourth place, Louis can tell three types of wines apart instead of only the two, and he also feels a little warm, all the mouthfuls starting to add up.

"Your palate is broadening," Harry says, then laughs at him, so Louis gives him a pinch.

Harry judges he's bought enough so they drive back to park the car at the hotel. It's past a proper lunchtime, and Louis pulls up a map on his mobile to scan for a place to eat. "Here, there's pizza just up the road."

It's fancier than he wanted, but there's pepperoni, and Louis can get a pint. Why not make it an all-day buzz, he figures. 

Harry gets something with vegetables. He thumbs at the screen of his phone with one hand and shoves pizza into his mouth with the other. "I feel like there's an overabundance of places to get drunk in like, an eight-block radius."

"'s all fancy drinks and wine," Louis replies, nodding, because he knows it must be.

Harry scoffs at him. "You and your cheap beer."

"Why would I tip back a half-dozen artsy cocktails made with flowers and shit when I just want to get pissed?" He saves a loose piece of pepperoni from falling. "You know I'm right."

"Can't argue that point," Harry laughs. 

They drop their leftovers off at the hotel after that, and then Harry ducks into the antique shop they'd passed yesterday, pulling Louis in behind him with a grip on Louis's hoodie. "I can't loiter outside, get a smoke?" Louis asks, although he doesn't much care. 

"No, because I need you to tell me I can't buy more weird shit."

Louis laughs outright at that, long and hard. "Oi, Harry, don't buy any more weird shit," he says when he's managed to stop laughing, and Harry grins widely at him and sets about looking at all the old cameras.

"I'm going to run a while on the treadmill down in the workout room," Harry says when they return to the hotel. He stretches his arms up over his head. "Before we eat any more pizza."

"Have fun."

"Want to come with?"

Louis works out marginally more than he used to, but he still hates a treadmill. "Think I'll swim for a while."

The pool is empty, so he does laps until he's tired of them, then floats for a while, still puzzling out the lyrics from last night. Probably over-emotional shit, he's sure, but there might be a turn of phrase or two worth saving. 

The shower is running when he goes up to their room, so Harry's back. He exits the loo in a cloud of vanilla-scented steam. "Was there not a fan," Louis says, dry.

"Nope."

Louis has to rinse off in the Harry-smelling shower, but it's better than feeling dry and itchy from the chlorine. When he walks out into the main room, scrubbing his hair off with one towel and another around his waist, he finds Harry lounging on his bed in just pants and drinking wine straight from the bottle. "Oi, still with the casual nudity?"

Harry rolls his eyes and throws a sock, but it falls onto the floor far short of Louis. "I'm not naked."

"Might as well be." Louis digs through his bag for clothes. "You sharing that bottle?"

"If you're nice to me."

Louis scoffs at that. He dresses, then flops down on his bed. His notebook is still on the nightstand and he grabs it, opening it to last night's scribbles. He can feel Harry watching him as he crosses out a few words and replaces them with others. _all these things in my mind, coarse thoughts magnified, liquor-drowned and I'm not fine_ \- that's still stupid, too much like things he's done before. Plus the cadence isn't quite right. He puts a question mark next to it.

"Tommo," Harry says, and holds out the bottle. 

Louis takes a long couple swallows, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He gives the wine back to Harry, then puts a circle around "liquor-drowned", because that's mostly okay. For now.

"I really liked that EP you put out last," Harry says softly.

"Really?" Louis asks without thinking, looking up from his notes.

"Wouldn't lie about that." Harry takes a long drink, then another. "Alright, eating my leftovers."

"Get mine out too, yeah?"

By the time they've finished off their pizza and the bottle of wine, Louis is feeling a bit loose. Definitely not drunk, only soft around the edges. He gives up on writing for the night and makes 'come here' arms at Harry after they've watched some old terrible romance on the telly and are starting in on something that promises to have both explosions _and_ romance.

Harry climbs over and cuddles close, the loose-limbed movements of the tipsy. Louis pets his hair drowsily, careful not to tangle, before leaning his head on Harry's shoulder to watch the movie. 

It's terrible. An hour into it, he's bored, and just gives up on paying attention to the shitty dialogue. He works his hand back into Harry's hair and pulls, not all that hard, and Harry allows it, letting his head fall back with a soft sound, not quite a moan. Louis is unprepared for the feeling that suddenly rises up in him, like his lungs are rubbed raw in an instant, making it difficult to breathe. He rests his cheek against Harry's neck to feel his pulse, presses his lips to that right-there hollow of Harry's shoulder. Then he says hoarsely, "Fuck you, making me feel like I'm a teenager again."

Harry laughs like he's startled by it, his mouth opening wide. "You, what about me?"

"What about you?" Louis climbs on top of him, intentionally digging his thumbs into soft places - not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make Harry squirm and slap at his hands, trying to stop him. Louis straddles Harry's thighs and looks down at his scrunched-up face. "Well?" he demands.

"It was _torture_ , being sixteen amid all that, with you and Aiden always - like that."

Louis feels like his heart's in his throat. "Like what," he has to say around it.

"Like it was a kind of game, where you were each waiting to see who'd break first and snog the other." Harry pushes himself up on his elbows a bit, even though Louis is still sitting on him. "Did you not know what's what it looked like?"

Louis shakes his head, wordless.

"Oh, Lou," Harry sighs, and cups Louis's jaw, bringing their lips together briefly, more a touch than an actual kiss. It's nothing they haven't done before, but it's been a long time. "No wonder you're a mess now."

"Fuck off," Louis says, but there's no heat to it. "Back then - I thought about it. Or I wanted to think about it, but nobody ever left us alone long enough. Barely had time to think about anything except performing, and like, getting enough food and sleep that I wasn't dead the next day so I could keep performing."

"Remember having a hard time getting a wank in," Harry chuckles. 

"A very Harry problem." He runs his thumbs over Harry's collarbones, then over the birds. "I wasn't lying about not wanting to shag you when all those people thought we were fucking," he says after another moment's thought.

"Didn't think you were." Harry tips Louis off then, but carefully, and they each grab a pillow to put under their heads. "Can I ask you something else?"

"'course."

"Did you and El have a proper break-up over this?"

Louis sighs. "Is it stupid to say I don't know if we did?"

"No." Harry pokes his shoulder. "Okay, so - don't take this wrong, because you know I like El a lot, okay? But what if you're missing someone you're meant to be with - maybe not forever, maybe just for a while - by pretending you're totally straight?"

Louis scoffs. "You really believe in that meant to be stuff? You've slept with like two hundred people."

"It hasn't been two hundred!"

"You pulled all the time on tour," Louis says, in case Harry needs the reminder.

"Only for a while." Harry's mouth does the thing, the one where he's disappointed in other people and can't entirely hide it. "Then I got kind of freaked out about people talking about my dick on Twitter."

"Got nothing to be ashamed of there, Styles."

"You're changing the subject," Harry says firmly. 

Louis rubs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted, all the time spent outside and all the stupid fancy wine feeling like it's caught up with him right at once. "She told me to go, and I did, and we haven't said all that much to each other since. I'm supposed to be here sorting myself out, and all I've done is hang out with Freddie and take a bunch of label meetings, and go watch bands we might want to sign, and haven't done much figuring of anything."

He sighs and rubs his face again, then looks at Harry. "You always did like to talk about the uncomfortable shit."

"Wouldn't say I _like_ to, just that I don't mind."

Louis groans into the pillow. "I'm going to sleep."

Harry knuckles lightly at his ribs. "Hey."

" _What_."

"It's not going to be shitty forever."

"You can't promise that," Louis grumbles. "But thanks."

  


  


**Friday**

They get off the highway in Ukiah, intending to get lunch, only to find the street Harry wants to park on blocked off by dozens of tents and a giant banner reading _September Arts Festival_ in a very swirly font. Harry looks over, grinning. "We have to. It's meant to be."

"I'm not buying anyone's homemade soap," Louis counters.

"It'll be fun. There's probably food."

They get a few random things at a couple stalls, eating out of little cardboard boats as they walk around. Harry must stop to look at something, because when Louis glances back for him, he doesn't see Harry anywhere in the crowd of people. It's not as though Louis thinks Harry's completely disappeared, but it's an odd sensation, suddenly standing alone surrounded by people he doesn't know, all focused on their own experiences, chattering about their upcoming weekend plans, the jam they want to go back to some booth to buy, the painting they saw that might look good on the sitting room wall. A few of them glance at him, but more because he's stopped in the middle of pedestrian traffic, trying to look over heads to see where Harry's gone.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, when he bumps into a woman holding on to a bunch of balloons. 

"You look like you've lost someone," she answers. "There's a cop on the corner if your kid has wandered off."

"Just my friend." He moves more off the sidewalk then, and finally sees Harry's stupid hat a few stalls away. 

"Thought I'd lost you," he says, catching Harry by the tail of his shirt.

"But then you found me." Harry smiles widely, his face scrunching up under his hat. "I'm getting this quilt, and then there's a few shops right there I want to go into."

The quilt looks like a quilt to Louis. "Alright. I'm going to have a smoke."

There's a bin with an ashtray outside the bookshop. He gets in a quick cigarette, aware that none of these other nice Californians are smoking, and stubs it out before even finishing. Yet more reasons to give it up except for when he's out for a pint. He buys a bottle of water from a nearby vendor, then goes into the tiny record shop. There's an old Neil Young poster above the door.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. _got lost again_

 _music shop_ , he writes back, then returns to his browsing. This place has an astounding number of import singles, which he'd almost forgotten even existed. 

"Quite the assortment, mate," he says to the shop employee when he looks up and sees the teenager watching him. 

"We get a lot of trade-ins," the kid says, his tone bored.

Louis is pretty sure no one's trading in single-song Oasis imports from 2002 in this town, so whoever runs this shop must be quite the music buff, but it's clearly not this teenager. His phone vibrates again. _anything good?_

_might be_

Harry whirls in a moment later, fixing his hair up even as it continues to fall all over his face. Louis can tell the instant the clerk recognizes them. "I, uh - you guys are - right?"

"Used to be," Harry says brightly.

The clerk's eyes widen. "This is wild, man, this is fucking Ukiah. Can you guys sign some stuff?" he asks.

"Sure," Harry says. "What've you got around here?"

Moments later, Louis is staring down at a "Night Changes" single. "I didn't even know they made this. As an actual disc."

"Mikey - he's the owner, my cousin - he goes all over the state to Goodwills and garage sales, looking for stuff. I think he picked it up on one of those trips. People get rid of all sorts of music - he found some Beatles albums worth an actual shitton of money last year."

"Found this at a jumble sale?" Louis asks in surprise. 

"That one I don't remember," the clerk - who'd introduced himself as Eddie - says as he puts another few cases on the counter. "This is all of it."

Harry signs his name across the front insert of one of his own albums. Louis leans over and watches him add a doodle of a cat's face. "I'm making it one of a kind," Harry says, glancing up with a smile. He looks so sweet that Louis wants to lean in and kiss his cheek, but doesn't. Instead he reaches for the next disc, and sees their decade-younger faces staring up at him.

"That one's like a time warp," Harry says, dry. 

"We had a poster of that up for a while," Eddie informs them. "Someone bought it."

Louis blinks. "What, recently?"

"Last year, I think."

"Must of been for a joke," Louis says. "We're all much better-looking now, 'cept for this one." He points at Harry, who only smiles brightly again.

They sign the rest of the discs for Eddie, and Harry flips through the display of records while Louis buys the Oasis single and the new Hurts album that he hasn't got yet. "You getting anything?" he asks Harry when he's done.

Harry holds up two LPs. "Surf rock," he says.

"When in California," Louis chuckles. He tucks a few bills in the Make-a-Wish jar on the counter while Harry pays. They say goodbye to Eddie and go next door to the bookshop, Harry dragging along his quilt bag. Louis looks down at it. "Could put that in't car."

"Nah, I got it."

They browse for a while; or Harry browses, while Louis stands in front of a shelf of music biographies and pages through something that says it's about Lennon's New York years.

"Did Freddie have this one?" Harry asks, pulling Where The Wild Things Are from a precarious pile of children's books. 

"Not at my place, but maybe at Bri's." 

"One of Ben's kids is mad about it. Birthday bash theme and everything." Harry adds it to the stack he's carrying; Louis isn't sure if these books are for him or more things he's planning to give away. "Shit, what time is it? I did actually book our next stop, and there's a cut-off for checking in."

"Three-thirty." They've been here longer than Louis expected.

"We're still good. I probably shouldn't load the car down anymore, though."

"Stop buying shit, Harry," Louis says, not meaning it in the least. 

There's a coffeeshop on the way back to where they'd left the car, so they get drinks for the road. Harry gets a large iced something, saying, "It's about four more hours to drive, so we'll have to wee no matter what."

"I can drive for a bit, now that we're not on the road right next to the ocean," Louis offers. Wordlessly, Harry hands him the keys and gets in on the passenger side with his bag of books. He slides his phone into the mount for the directions. 

This far north - Louis always laughs at Californians considering the top two-thirds of their state to be north, but they've gone more than half the state now - the 101 is two lanes on either side of a median, a lot of it bordered by farmlands and fields. Harry turns on the Stones for a while, low. He sings along in places, quietly but with feeling, making Mick sweeter than the lyrics actually are. It's nice, and Louis relaxes into it. 

"That was lovely," he says, when Harry seems to get tired of it and turns off the album before it's done. "Always do love listening to you like that, the way you sing when no one's paying attention."

Harry's smile is gorgeous and soft, and Louis thinks he might have actually made Harry blush. "Really truly?"

"Wouldn't lie about such things, yeah?" Louis reaches over, squeezes Harry's thigh briefly. Then he flicks on the headlights, as clouds are starting to pile up, darkening the sky somewhat. 

They stop about halfway for a break. "I could take over driving," Harry offers, but Louis only puts a protective hand over the keys in his pocket.

Harry opens the bag of books when they're on the highway again. "Mind if I read?"

"Don't mind at all."

It doesn't rain, and Harry reads Where The Wild Things Are in a great dramatic voice, poshing it up until Louis can't help but laugh. "You regret not doing more acting?" he asks when Harry's finished.

"No. I liked what I did, but I'd rather make records and tour right now." Harry stretches his arms forward against the dash. "Can't all be Mick and tour forever."

"Sure, why not? Just need some cocaine."

Harry laughs at that and takes his next book from the bag.

  


"Well, this is quite the change," Louis says, when the GPS indicates they've arrived, and he turns off the highway onto the side road. "Are you sure there's a hotel back here?"

"Not a hotel," Harry replies. 

"Then what - ah." He sees the row of small rental houses in orange-tinted wood, with white porches and tidy landscaping. "A definite Harry Styles middle-of-nowhere road trip special." 

"Off the beaten path."

Louis parks the car in what he hopes is the parking lot. "There's not even any sort of path."

"Shut it," Harry laughs, and gets out to go into the office. When he comes back, he says, "She says we better go down to the grocery we just passed if we want anything more than the one pizza place that delivers."

They drop their bags inside the cottage and walk the short distance to the shop. At least from the outside, it looks like it hasn't been updated since before Louis was born. Inside, Harry grabs a cart, and skates it halfway down an aisle. "I honestly don't remember the last time I didn't just have the shopping delivered," he says, and Louis has to agree.

They get a bunch of random snacks and drinks, Harry saying that whatever they don't finish they can take with in the car, and sandwiches from the deli for dinner. Louis juggles the beer he's carrying enough to open a bag of crisps on the walk back. Harry makes a face. "What, I can't have a snack? You're the one bought actual candyfloss at the fair."

"Haven't had candyfloss since I was a kid," Harry says happily. 

They eat their sandwiches while looking around the cottage. "The website said that's our grill to use, so I could make lunch tomorrow," Harry offers, as they look out the windows of the back porch.

"How many nights did you book?"

"Just the two. Thought it would be a nice place to get some writing done."

Louis can't argue with that. He gets the notebook from his backpack and settles on the daybed that's on the porch, but calls Briana first to leave Freddie a good night message. "I was actually doing the driving for once, can you believe? Your dad, volunteering to drive when Uncle Harry's right there. I hope you had a good day, lad. I'll call again tomorrow. Love you."

He looks up to see Harry in the doorway between the main cottage and the porch, guitar in hand. "Good?" Harry asks. 

"There's room for both of us out here." Louis gestures at the small table and chairs. 

Harry settles in, his feet up on the other chair, and picks somewhat absentmindedly at the guitar. When Louis glances at him, Harry looks sort of far away, like he's thinking about something serious, or trying to play an entire song over in his head. His fingers move on the frets, but he's not doing much strumming, and he's not looking at Louis, so Louis watches him for a while.

"You getting any work done?" Harry asks, still staring into middle distance.

Louis looks down at his notebook, where he's got four lines that are sort of about feeling his age. "Yeah… not much."

"Want a beer?"

"Sure."

Harry sets the guitar aside and gets up, catching his joggers when they slip. "Get some trousers that fit, will you?" Louis calls, and Harry smiles back at him over his shoulder, the sort of smile Louis used to see him aim at the girls he wanted to take to bed. His pen skids over the page. 

Harry disappears and Louis has to think _breathing, yeah_. 

He feels like his cheeks and ears are red. A two-second look from Harry shouldn't make him feel like a teenager again. Maybe Harry gives everyone that look these days. He frowns down at the mostly empty page in front of him, then writes down what he'd just thought, then frowns again. 

The cottage is small enough that he can hear Harry rustling around in the kitchen for much longer than it takes to just grab some beers. Then Harry's bare feet make a slapping sound on the wood floor, growing louder as he comes back. "What were you doing?" Louis asks. 

"Put the vodka in the freezer." Harry sets a chilled bottle on the little table next to Louis, and goes back to his chairs. Louis notes that Harry's beer bottle is almost half empty already, and Harry wipes the condensation on his fingers off on his joggers before settling the guitar across his lap again.

"We getting drunk tonight?"

"Thought maybe we could."

Louis takes a long swallow of his beer and watches Harry play a few chords, his hair falling everywhere, and thinks about how they've never been writing two separate things together in one room before. 

He makes a couple notes of that on his page, the feeling of co-existing with a person in a space that feels sacred somehow, yet both of them working on things they're not sharing. 

Harry's scribbling now, quick, and his face in profile is serious. It's not quite full dark and there's only the one lamp on the porch, closer to Louis than to Harry. The outdoor lights are soft as well and Louis realizes suddenly that he can't hear much more than the sounds of insects in the night, the rare faraway sound of a car passing on the highway, Harry's pen and the muted sounds his fingertips make against the strings as he touches chords but doesn't actually strum.

"Harry," Louis murmurs.

"Mm?"

"Are you writing about this trip?"

Harry looks over at him. "Kind of? Was I… not supposed to?"

Louis takes a drink, then asks, "Did you invite me along for this so that you'd have something to write about, seeing someone you haven't even called in months, someone there's all this - stuff with?"

He doesn't know why he's asking it like this, and Harry's face falling makes something sour curl in his stomach. "No, Tommo, I -"

"You are using it," Louis says softly.

"Aren't you?" Harry's folded himself up, resting his chin on the side of the guitar, looking down at his hands.

Louis looks at the notes he'd scratched out. "Don't quite know what to make of it."

"You're not mad at me for that," Harry says, the words not a question. 

Louis shakes his head. He's not mad, only slightly confused. "It's just - feels kind of weird, you know? Being with you, just us alone here, after I've only seen you at parties now and again."

"Not really much opportunity to catch up at those sorts of parties."

"No," Louis agrees. 

Harry chugs the rest of his beer, then stares at the bottle in his hand. He holds up one finger and leans to write something down, then gets up. "Please come with me," he says.

Louis follows him into the small kitchen, wanting to know where this is headed.

Harry fishes some ice from the freezer, drops it into one of the plastic cups he'd bought, and pours vodka over. Then he pushes the bottle over and looks at Louis. "Never have I ever," he says, his gaze unreadable over the cup held to his mouth, "sucked another man's cock."

Then he takes a large swallow of the vodka.

"Jesus, Harry," Louis says, feeling almost as though he's been struck, that same jarring rollback. "What the fuck?"

 _Aren't we too old for this?_ he wants to ask, and _Why are you telling me you've sucked dick?_

Also twisting in there is the desire to know who it was, and if Harry's ever written a song about them. Louis pours his own vodka and stares at Harry, deliberately not drinking. 

"Well?" Harry prompts. "Your turn."

Louis rolls his eyes and points at Harry. Sharply, he says, "Never have I ever said something to my bandmate that sounded so blatantly like a proposition."

Harry laughs quietly at that and takes a much shallower sip. He shoves his hair back with his free hand. "Alright, this is dumb, poor execution on my part."

Louis has his own long swallow of vodka then, cold in his mouth but pooling hot in his belly. "Should have picked spin the bottle. Who better to kiss than your friends?" They've kissed before, a handful of times, mostly soft for comfort and without any true intent, just like the gentle touch of Harry's mouth to his last night. 

Harry looks at him with one hand still holding his hair back. "What if I want to do more than kiss?"

Louis looks back at him as evenly as he's able, which is quite difficult given how his head is suddenly spinning. He thinks about Harry's _let's fuck_ smile. "What if, indeed."

"If we were proper adults, the right thing to do would be to _not_ do something we might regret," Harry says, making a wavy hand gesture. 

"True, true." Louis bobs his head, his heart pounding. He suddenly wants to touch Harry in all sorts of ways. It's a hot feeling, sweeping through him, making him lose his breath. He has another mouthful of vodka for courage, then licks his lips. "But one, are we really proper adults? And two - fuck regrets."

A slow smile spreads over Harry's face. "What song was playing?"

Louis blinks, confused. "Huh?"

"When the guy asked you to dance."

"Oh - here, you've actually probably got it." He holds out his hand, and Harry passes over his phone. " _You're_ sure about this, yeah?" Louis asks as he scrolls quickly through albums, his damp fingertips slipping on the glass. 

Harry knocks back the rest of what's in his cup. "Play the song, Louis," he breathes, voice low, his gaze so heavy that Louis shudders and his fingertip nearly skids past the right track.

Carefully, he sets Harry's phone up against the vodka bottle as the first notes play. "Ah," Harry whispers. "Yes. That perfect beat for..." he trails off, hands reaching out, and Louis thinks _no regrets_ as he pulls Harry toward him so that Harry's thigh slots between his. Harry rocks his hips to the beat and the slow grind is almost too much immediately. Unthinking, Louis gets his arms around Harry's shoulders, and one of Harry's hands lands on his hip, almost guiding, while the other slides up under Louis's vest, fingers spreading wide over his back.

"Fuck," Louis breathes, closing his eyes. This song is almost five minutes long. He can feel Harry's cock through the thin joggers they're both wearing. 

"I'd say I can't believe you just lit me up like this, except I can," Harry murmurs directly into his ear, his hands gripping tighter. It's a direct shot of confidence, and Louis grabs Harry's face, kissing him messily as they rock to the beat. Or really, grind to the beat, because this isn't exactly dancing - it's basically fucking, in the kitchen of this rented cottage. Louis laughs right into Harry's mouth, then bites his bottom lip, making him swear. 

"Oi, I'm sure there's more to gay sex than humping your leg," Louis says, after Harry drags his lips down Louis's neck, hands trying to pull him closer.

"Thought you might want a minute to get used to the feel of another dude's dick so close to yours," Harry replies, amusement in his voice, and then he squeezes Louis's ass. "Did you want me to suggest flat-out that you suck my cock?"

Louis groans and yanks him into another kiss, sliding one hand down Harry's front to palm at his cock before he loses his nerve. "You really never," Harry says, the words not much more than breath against Louis's mouth, the puff of air making him shiver. 

"No."

"What did you think about doing, when you wanked to that guy from the bar?"

Louis shivers, then shakes his head. "I don't know. It wasn't concrete. Just a fantasy, like. What his hands might feel like on my arse. Putting my mouth on his fucking tattoo while he got me off."

"What else?" Harry nudges underneath his ear, then presses a string of kisses down Louis's neck. Louis rubs his palm over Harry's dick, slowly, getting used to enjoying the feel of it. Harry's hard, his erection pushing out the front of his stupid pastel joggers. 

"He suck your dick in this fantasy?" Harry asks. He pulls at the collar of Louis's shirt, sucks a hard mark at the bottom of his throat. Louis moans at that, the feeling overlaid with the old memory of catching Harry unawares in their wrestling, giving Harry a lovebite same as he always gave Liam. 

"Maybe you fucked him, or got fucked," Harry breathes directly in Louis's ear, pushing his thigh hard against Louis's suddenly aching cock. "It's intimate, doing that. Careful at first. But then I always got as lost in it same as if I was with a girl."

Louis feels like he's close to sobbing, the same heat rising in his throat. He squeezes the back of Harry's neck, and Harry rocks harder against him. "Could do that, if you want," Harry says, sliding his hand down the back of Louis's joggers to grip his ass. 

"Fuck, yes, everything," Louis chokes out, and comes just from riding Harry's thigh, pulling Harry's hair unintentionally as the orgasm rolls over and through him, the scent and taste and feel of Harry all around him, the world all around. 

Harry breathes hot against his neck. "That was fucking perfect, Louis." 

Louis stumbles back, shaking, and lands in one of the kitchen chairs. Harry smirks at him and pushes his joggers and pants down, right there, and wraps a hand around his dick. Louis watches him jerk off, feeling breathless and hot and sticky, and tries to memorize the look on Harry's face when he comes, so that he can find words for it later.

Harry slumps against the counter. Neither of them say anything for a moment. Then Harry looks down at the floor. "Guess I better wipe that up."

Louis laughs at that, too tired and still turned on and confused to do anything but. Harry gets his clothes the rest of the way off and holds the bundle in the crook of one arm as he bends over to clean his jizz off the floor with a wad of paper towelling in the other hand. "I - you came on the floor," Louis says, and laughs even harder.

"I'm glad we can laugh about this," Harry says, sounding completely sincere, and that makes Louis laugh more, until it's blurred into tears. Fuck, how much crying is he going to do this trip? Harry's turned away, washing his hands at the sink, and the sound of the running water masks Louis's harsh breathing. 

He scrubs at his face with his hands and is more composed by the time Harry turns around again. "Should go change my pants," he says. "Now that I can walk. I think. You going to stay like that?"

"Might do." Harry's smile now is much smaller, gentler. He leans against the counter, seemingly uncaring of where the edge of it must press into his skin. He's fitter than he was the last time Louis really spent time with him, the muscles of his biceps and quads more defined, and the cut of his hips is sharp. His cock is wet, he hadn't wiped it off, Louis can see the sheen. 

"Time is it?" he asks, mostly for something to say.

Harry reaches for his phone, still leaning against the vodka bottle. "Half eleven."

Louis makes himself stand. "I'll wash up."

In the fancy loo, he rinses out his shorts, because there's dirty laundry he doesn't care about having to fly back, and then there's so gross he would never. "Hey, Tommo?" he hears Harry call from outside the door. 

"Yeah?"

"You didn't go in there to freak out in private, right?"

Louis opens the door. Harry's wrapped a towel from somewhere around his waist and is holding a cup with more vodka and ice. "Only a little."

"I can sleep on the daybed on the porch if you want me to," Harry offers, but the expression on his face is definitely saying _don't make me_.

"Don't be daft, love," Louis replies immediately. Then adds, braver than he feels, "How am I supposed to get the full gay sex experience if I never even touch your dick?"

The corner of Harry's mouth twitches. "I love this conversation."

"The bed here looks much nicer than your recent hotel room choices, so you should get in it," Louis says, emboldened. He takes the cup fro Harry's hand and has a swallow. 

Harry drops the towel and swaggers to the bed. Louis rolls his eyes. Of course Harry is still _Harry_ about this. 

He switches off the bathroom light and follows Harry, who's now sitting on the edge of the mattress. Louis nudges in between his knees, setting his hands light on Harry's thighs. "You cutting your hair anytime soon, you mess?" he asks, leaning in to kiss Harry's cheek, then his neck, then his mouth.

"Better for pulling this way," Harry says seriously, and lifts one of Louis's hands to his head. Louis kisses him, keeping it as slow and lazy as he knows how, getting used to the feel of Harry entirely naked pressed up against him. 

"Lou," Harry gasps against his mouth.

"What?"

"Does it help if you pretend we haven't known each other forever?"

Louis leans back so he can look at Harry. Glare, really. "That's fucking rubbish, is what that is. I don't want to fuck some stranger, Harry."

"No, I only thought -" he stops and shakes his head, seemingly at himself. "Sorry. Come back?"

Louis loosens his hold on Harry's hair to slide his hand down over Harry's face. He thumbs at the corner of Harry's mouth, pushing at his frown. Softer, he asks, "What did you mean? I want to know."

"Just for a split second I thought - maybe all our history was giving this too much weight."

"I don't want you to run away with me or whatever," Louis replies, giving Harry a smile. "But I'm happy it's you, alright?"

Harry tightens his knees, pulling Louis in close again. "Kisses now, please," he whispers, and Louis can do that. He feels very wrapped up in Harry, but it's a good feeling, and when Harry sucks on his tongue a bright heat leaps upward in his belly.

"Can you get hard again?" Harry asks, when he's paused in his ravaging of Louis's mouth to nose at his ear. 

"If you give me a few more minutes." He glances down at Harry's crotch. "You're not either."

"Give me a minute," Harry laughs into his ear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday**

It's late when Louis wakes, sunk down in the plush mattress enough that it takes him a moment to right himself. Harry's not there, but the space where he was seems warm enough, like he hasn't been out of bed long. Or maybe that's just Louis wanting to think so.

He struggles free of the sheet and gets his bare feet on the floor. The wood is cool and the feeling clears his head some. He shuffles into the bathroom for a pee and to splash water onto his face, and to wonder if he should maybe shave. Nah.

Around the corner into the kitchen, he finds a stovetop kettle and a box of tea in the cupboard. From here, he can see Harry's on the porch, curled over the guitar again, bare notes being plucked out so softly that Louis has to strain to be sure he's not hearing things. 

He listens for a moment. Then the kettle whistles and Harry looks up. "Tea?" Louis calls.

"Yeah."

Louis fixes them both a mug, realizing in their haste to buy mostly junk and liquor, they'd forgotten milk. "You want I should walk down to that shop for milk?"

"I can drink it plain for now." Harry takes the mug from him. He looks tired and his hair's a right mess. "Have to make a run there later anyway."

Louis curls up around his mug on the daybed. "You're not regretting the shit we did last night, are you?" he asks.

"Promised not to, didn't we?" Harry raises both eyebrows at him over the steaming mug. "No, babe, I don't regret it. Do you?"

"No." It's a simple word, but right now Louis feels like this is anything but. He takes a few sips of tea. "Just - don't want you to feel like you, specifically, were an experiment."

Harry's mouth quirks at that. There's a lovebite stark on his neck just under his ear, and he's only in trackies, so Louis can also see the one over his collarbone and the one on his stomach. Louis feels himself flush, remembering putting it there and how Harry's skin had felt against his tongue. Harry says, "I've done plenty of my own experimenting."

"You're my friend first," Louis feels like he needs to point out. 

"You think I'm making light of it?"

"No." He stretches out his legs and wiggles his toes. "You used to slink out, the morning after."

Harry gives him a lazy smile and strums a couple chords. "Where would I slink to here?"

Louis finishes his mug and makes another, while Harry plays what sounds like a ripoff version of a Fleetwood Mac song. It could really be a Fleetwood Mac song; Louis doesn't know them all but Harry probably does. 

Then Harry sets the guitar aside and stretches. "I don't want you to think I'm, uh - running out? But I am going to go for a run."

"Take your phone, so you can call me if you get lost," Louis answers. "And put a shirt on."

Harry smirks at that. "And then we'll grill."

"You can grill. I will sit on one of them benches out there and tell you you're doing it wrong."

Louis has never operated a barbeque in his life. Harry chuckles. He kisses Louis's cheek. "Cheers, then."

Once Harry's gone, Louis goes into the loo and contemplates the jacuzzi tub while he brushes his teeth. It's too early for that sort of soak. He wonders if maybe Harry would get into it with him later. For now, he uses the glass-walled shower stall, then walks around the cottage in a towel drying off. 

He hasn't looked at Instagram in days, so he scrolls through that while he's lazing about, and sees that El's posted a selfie with the dogs, her arms around their necks, Cliff getting kind of squished where she's stretching her arm out for the camera. 

They haven't spoken in weeks, since he texted _Freddie says he misses you :)_ after Freddie had said just that, and Eleanor'd written back _tell Freddie I miss him too :)_ and that was all, and Louis felt a bit hollow for it. He opens their message thread now and looks down at it for a minute, biting the inside of his cheek. 

_Been alright?_ he sends. Then he leaves his phone on the kitchen counter and goes to put some clothes on. It's been nearly an hour and Harry isn't back yet, but Louis hasn't heard sirens or gotten any calls from the police, so he doesn't think he shouldn't worry yet. 

He called El from Heathrow. The longer it rang, the more worried he got that she wouldn't answer, but she picked up on the last ring before voicemail. "I only want to be sure," he said, turning away from the other few people in the airline lounge. "That I'm doing what you want. I love you. I don't need to _know_ this… thing, to know I do love you."

"I need you to know it," she said, her voice calm in the way that Louis knew she'd thought about all of this for a while. "Because what we don't need is you spending forever wondering about if maybe you do like guys, worrying at it like some sore tooth, me finding you crying, all that."

Heat rose in his throat. "El -"

"You can't even say it," she murmured, that gentleness that Louis always knew meant she'd rather be yelling. "Your face when - it was like that time you got punched in the jaw and you didn't see it coming, that shock."

He didn't know how to explain, and said as much.

"I am telling. You. To do this." The words are sharp. "You get the summer to sort this. And however you sort it, Louis… you can tell me, yeah?"

"What about…" He couldn't say it. "Am I cheating on you, then?"

She was silent for a moment. "I'm going to make a relationship executive decision here: no."

Louis pressed a ragged breath into his hand so she couldn't hear it. 

"The summer, babe," she whispered. Then the call disconnected, and Louis felt like he'd been left staring down at nothing but eleven hours of replaying the conversation in his head for the entire flight. 

His clothes from last night are dry, so he wears the joggers again, and chucks the rest in his laundry bag. His phone's flashing when he goes to fetch it. 

_Been good, you alright?_

_Driving up the coast with Harry if you can believe it_ , he replies.

_Ha no can't, really?_

Louis chuckles at that. _Really_

_Just like old times?_

It hasn't been anything like old times. _No_

Eleanor doesn't reply right away, so Louis makes another mug of tea and checks his emails, then goes onto the porch to steal Harry's guitar and mess around with it for a bit. He's competent at the basics, chords and some finger work, but he'd rather figure out a melody on a keyboard. Which is about the only thing Harry hasn't brought along or bought by now. So he plays "Champagne Supernova" very simply just to warm up his brain, and then his phone flashes again.

_Neither one of you's the same person you were back then_

True. _There's been a few moments where he's felt like a stranger_ , Louis sends, then writes that down in his notebook as well. 

There's the sound of the door banging, and Harry comes in loaded down with shopping bags, sweat everywhere, his hair held back by a stretchy band. "Weren't we going to go together?" Louis asks, going into the kitchen to lift one of the bags from Harry's hand to the countertop. 

Harry shrugs at that. "Had my card on me and was going right past, so… I'm going to shower now."

"Yeah, yeah." 

He fetches his phone from the patio and sees El's sent _In a good way or bad?_

 _Different I guess?_ Harry's not the sort of person that Louis would probably ever have been friends with if it wasn't for the band. He adds, _Think somehow this has been better for me than just standing around LA, much as I love doing Dad things._

_Did you shag him?_

He promised to tell, but he's stumped as to how. Writing back only "yes" seems so harsh, somehow, but it's honest. _We messed around last night. If you want to know details I'll tell you_

_When you come home, tell me everything._

He counts days in his head, then sends, _Think Harry's only got a few more stops planned - I'll be home next week, if that's alright?_

_See you next week :)_

Louis exhales, then hides in his tea for a while. Harry wanders out of the bathroom in a pair of tropical-print shorts that Louis thinks he saw at Topman once, and nothing else. "You look a little out of sorts, did you talk to Eleanor?" Harry asks, unpacking his groceries.

"I did, yeah."

"Everything okay?"

"Surprisingly - yes."

"Glad to hear it. Are we still allowed to fuck around?"

Louis laughs. "I think it'll be alright, yeah."

Harry swoops in - there's no other word for it - and kisses him soundly. Louis laughs into it, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "You're such a fucking weirdo," he says, but Harry only grins widely. "You better get the barbecue going if you want lunch and not supper."

Harry goes off with his chicken breasts and vegetables. Louis sits on one of the benches, as promised, and heckles Harry mildly as he struggles with the grill. "I'm sure the front office lady would come out to help you," he says, as Harry finally gets it going.

"Fuck off, I figured it out."

"Are we going to the Bigfoot Museum?" 

Harry pauses in his slicing of something. "There's a Bigfoot Museum?" he asks, and Louis holds up the brochure. "We could. Is your next album going to be about forest monster creatures?"

Louis flips him off, then says, "That'd be a sight."

Harry gives a little salute with his knife and goes back to his cooking. 

"Forest monster creatures," Louis mutters under his breath. 

"You reading us that brochure or what?" Harry says, so Louis does.

After lunch, Louis admits he's probably not getting any more writing done for now, so they get into the Range Rover and go looking for the museum. "Oh," Harry says, as they drive right past it. "It's right there. We could have walked."

"Who put you in charge of this trip, seriously," Louis replies. 

"You did, fucker." Harry looks both ways, then yanks the wheel around in an illegal turn to get them back to the museum. It's an oddly-shaped building, looking like someone stuck a tiny house together with a large box twice the height of the house, and painted all of it an off sort of yellow. There's a Bigfoot statue in front of the box bit, carved out of wood. 

"Charming," Louis mutters.

"Ssh," Harry whispers back.

There are several other people looking around the museum, so Louis keeps most of his comments to himself, and pitches his others directly into Harry's ear, enjoying watching Harry turn pink and struggle not to laugh louder than he can easily smother in his palm. They stop in front of the display of plaster casts, Harry holding out his hand toward one of them and frowning. 

"Do you think the people around here really think Bigfoot's real?" he asks, quiet enough that only Louis can hear. 

"Bet it depends who you ask, but some of these look kind of fake."

"There's a map, we could go Bigfoot hunting." The corner of Harry's mouth quirks as he says it and Louis nudges him gently with an elbow.

"And get lost in't woods. Great choice, an excellent headline."

Harry buys two Bigfoot bobbleheads in the giftshop. One he sticks it to the dash of the Range Rover. The other he hands to Louis. "For Freddie."

"Lovely," Louis says dryly. 

They leave the car back at the cottage and walk down the highway to the coffeeshop. It's very bare-bones. There are three sets of tables and chairs, and three muffins on the counter beneath a glass dome. Louis gets tea. "So between this place, the museum, the restaurants we passed, and the bar across the highway there, that's nearly the entire town," he says to Harry as Harry adds sugar to his cup of coffee.

"I think there's a few more bars, but yeah." 

Louis shakes his head, laughing. Harry snaps the plastic lid back onto his cup and pulls out his phone. "I think we should have read reviews before we came here," he whispers to Louis as they walk out of the shop. 

Louis takes Harry's phone from him and goes to the map app. "It's forty-eight minutes to the nearest Frappucino, love, did you want to go now or later?"

"Is that driving or on foot?" 

Louis laughs and tucks Harry's phone back in his pocket. "Come on, time for you to write some lyrics about… how did the museum display put it? The Northwest's most famous cryptozoology specimen."

"They didn't _have_ any specimens," Harry says, a bit mournfully. Louis squeezes his arm.

  


"Alright, I can't look at this any more," Harry says later, tossing his notebook onto the table and folding his hands over his chest, looking up at the ceiling of the porch. He claimed the daybed when they came out here, so Louis is in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on the other, answering emails on his phone. 

"What are you going to do instead?" Louis asks, not looking up from his phone. "Also, Payno says hello, he hopes you're really finding yourself on this trip, and that he's gotten at least fifty unsolicited replies on Twitter in't last week asking if he knows where you are. The mystery of the disappearing Harry."

"Tell him to fuck off," Harry laughs. 

_Harry says fuck off_ , Louis texts Liam. It's late in London, but Louis figures it's not so late that Liam isn't still up. 

He's proven correct when Liam writes back, _Haven't u2 gotten lost in the woods yet???!!!_

_Shot down his plans to go Bigfoot hunting just today, ha_

"Louis," Harry sing-songs, dragging it out. "Pay attention to me."

"Sorry, only taking the piss out of you with Liam, my favorite pastime."

Harry looks over, pouting. "I'm going to write a mean song about you."

"You are not," Louis replies easily, but puts his mobile down and looks back at Harry, considering. "It's gotten chilly out here, should we go in?"

Inside, he pours them each a drink, and they lie in the bed flipping channels on the television. "It's all news," Harry sighs, putting the remote down and curling up against Louis, hands fisting in Louis's sweatshirt. 

Louis chuckles. "I think people renting these cottages aren't here to watch whatever movie might be running on HBO." 

"Ah, true." Harry kisses the side of his neck, once, twice, three times. "More doing things like that, yeah?" 

"No doubt." Louis reaches to put his glass on the side table, then rolls so that he's leaning over Harry. "Can I use me teeth again?"

"What? Oh. Yes, yeah, come here right now," Harry answers breathlessly, and pulls him down. 

It's less exploratory this time, and more aiming for just the right places. Louis thinks for a second that it might be weird that he learned Harry so quickly, except they've known each other so long that he doubts this entirely counts as learning. He's heard Harry talk about sex, and what he likes during sex, countless times before. They'd all talked about it once they knew each other well enough. Louis can probably count on one hand the number of times something about sex had been kept a secret. 

He nips at Harry's collarbone. "Question."

Harry's hand pauses in a slow slide up the inside of Louis's thigh. "Yes?"

"You ever wonder if we didn't keep enough of our own secrets?"

"Mmm, no." Harry presses a kiss under his jaw, right where Louis feels his own pulse beat the strongest. "Least not for most of it."

Louis knows what he means. "Yeah." 

Harry looks at him strangely for a second, and Louis wonders if he's going to ask what stirred the question, but instead he pushes his palms firmly against Louis's thighs. "Let me lie here," he murmurs in Louis's ear, and Louis shivers. 

They rock against each other lazily, trading kisses, until it's not lazy anymore. He grabs Harry's hips hard enough that it must hurt, but Harry only hisses and grinds down against him even dirtier. "Fuck," Louis gasps, the sting of Harry's teeth where they graze over his shoulder a throbbing counterpoint to the approaching orgasm. "Shit, you better fucking come when I do."

Harry halfway laughs, halfway groans at that, and bites Louis's bottom lip hard enough that it hurts. "What if," he manages, still grinding dirty, "what if I send you home all marked up, what then?"

Louis is too far gone to think seriously about that. "El'll just mark me up enough to match, shit," he groans out, and the thought of it is too much and he's coming, rocking up into Harry, fingers pressing hard into Harry's ass.

"God, Lou." Harry drops fully down onto him, and Louis feels it as Harry comes, slick jizz and sweat making their bodies slide even easier against each other. Harry's breath is hot against his neck. Dazed, Louis pets his hair.

  


  


**Sunday**

"Do you ever regret, some of the questions we answered? When it was personal, I mean."

They're on the highway again, headed for Harry's next destination, where he hasn't actually booked them any accomodations at all so far. Louis is sitting sort of sideways in the passenger seat, resting his temple against the leather, watching Harry drive.

Harry's nose scrunches up as he thinks about it. "For a while I think I was so flattered that someone wanted to know every detail that I didn't care about the telling. When you're sixteen..."

"No one should have asked us some of that, especially you and Payno." It wasn't something that Louis had realized right away; he understands completely what Harry means about feeling flattered that people wanted to know so much about you, how overwhelmingly exciting that could be. "Someone should have shut down a lot of that shit. _I_ could have shut it down, except I was too busy being flattered meself."

"Can't think about it that way, Tommo."

Louis frowns. "How else am I supposed to think about it now?"

Harry gives him a look, then reaches over with his right hand and rests it over the words on Louis's chest. "Yeah," Louis breathes. 

Harry drops his hand to Louis's, threads their fingers together and squeezes tight for a few moments before letting go. "So you can totally tell me to fuck off with this, but I sort of wondered - could we camp out tonight?"

"Camp out," Louis repeats.

"Yeah, get a tent, build a fire, cuddle in our sleep bags."

"Are you going to pitch the tent and build the fire yourself?"

"No, wanker, you're going to help me. At least with the tent. Thought we might get a halfway decent one, so it'll likely take two people to set up." Harry reaches out and does something to the map displayed on his phone. "There's a campground with facilities, so you won't have to shit in the woods or anything."

Louis squints at him. "Is this payback for all those terrible jokes I played on you on tour?"

"No, honestly. It'll be fun, roughing it for a night."

"Alright, but if there's a bear, or I see Bigfoot, you're getting left." Louis grins. "It'll make a good headline: _Rock superstar Harry Styles found, stumbling out of the woods, twigs in his hair._ "

"I could pull off that look," Harry insists. Louis rolls his eyes, but sets his hand on Harry's warm thigh. Harry pushes his hair back off his face and smiles, and lets Louis leave his hand there.

  


"Hey man," Harry says to the nearby guy in a Big 5 Sporting Goods shirt who seems to be working the department, graying hair and looking like he's probably someone's dad. "Can you help us figure out what tent we should buy?"

It's late enough that the store is next to empty, and Louis only saw one other employee when they walked in. The nametag on this employee's shirt reads Sam, and he seems knowledgeable about all the tents on display, or so it seems to Louis as he listens to Sam explain the various kinds to Harry and what sort of camping they're best for. "What if we only want to stay at the campground a night or two, without feeling like we're trying to sleep on rocks?" Harry asks. "The cost is no problem."

"This one's got a waterproof, insect-resistant bottom mat and a nice layer of foam on top of it." Sam points. Louis lets Harry go closer to examine it. "It holds a decent temperature at night, so you shouldn't be cold if you're in long sleeves and an insulated sleeping bag. And if you want, it can hook to the open back of your truck or SUV, so more of your things and equipment are close at hand."

Harry looks at Louis, raising his brows. "'s your show, lad," Louis says.

"Give us this one, thanks," Harry tells Sam. "We also need sleeping bags, stuff to start a fire, all that."

Sam looks like he's realized Harry can afford whatever he wants. "Sure, we can find whatever you need."

Louis picks out his own sleeping bag, thank you; not trusting Harry to pick a color other than fluorescent orange. Then he browses the athletic wear while Harry gets the rest of the camping gear, and grabs a few tees and a hoodie since his clean clothing situation is growing precarious, and he'd accidentally dipped his hoodie string into his tea yesterday. Plus Harry is currently wearing it, alone with nothing underneath, probably getting it too gross for Louis to want to reclaim. It's cool enough outside that Louis wants to layer up, especially if they're sleeping in a forest tonight. What did he let Harry talk him into, honestly. 

At the registers, Harry hands over his credit card for all of it. "Thought I recognized you guys, but I didn't really want to say anything," Sam says, passing Harry his card back. 

"Well, we're not much for disguises," Harry replies easily, putting the sleeping bags back into the cart. 

Louis is almost ready to slip out the door and let Harry finish up when he sees the soft look on Sam's face as he puts Louis's new shirts in a bag. He stops, wanting to hear whatever it is Sam's about to say. 

"I drove with my daughter down to Sacramento see you, oh, I bet six, seven years ago. Got tickets for her birthday as a surprise. I was just the dad going along, you know? But we had the best time. I really got to know my daughter on that trip." 

He chuckles, but Louis hears the emotion behind it. "She's all grown up now, graduated college. She lives down in San Diego with her girlfriend. Can I show you her picture?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry says, happily. "This is lovely."

Sam takes his wallet from his pocket and opens it to a picture in a small plastic sleeve, where two women in running gear are smiling at the finish line of a race, their arms around each other. "Here they are - my April, and her Charlene."

Louis feels dangerously like he's going to cry in this sporting goods store. He digs his nails into his palm, trying to push it back, but then Sam says, "They grow up so much faster than you expect," and Louis loses it quicker than he can control, hot tears welling up almost before he's aware of it. 

"Sorry," he chokes out, putting a hand over his eyes underneath his glasses, "I'm just -"

"I know," Harry says, painfully soft, and Louis feels Harry's thumb stroke over his cheek. 

"I'm gonna -" Louis manages, gesturing at the exit before he flees the store and Harry's hand on his face. Behind him, he hears Harry say, "Been a long time since someone told us a proper good memory like that, guess it really -" and then Louis is outside, sucking in huge lungfuls of air and trying to stop shaking. 

Thankfully it's late and there's no one coming into the store to stare at him, so he just stands on the pavement with his glasses jammed in his pocket, wiping halfheartedly at his face with his hands until Harry comes out pushing the cart full of things they'd bought. 

"Alright there, love?" he asks Louis in a soft voice, reaching with one hand to tug lightly at Louis's sleeve.

"Don't know what came over me." He wipes his face off with the bottom of his shirt and puts his glasses back on, then helps Harry load everything into the back of the Range Rover in an effort to calm himself down. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Harry reaches for him, and Louis lets himself be pulled close. He leans his head against Harry's shoulder. Harry says, "Was sweet, that story."

"Yeah."

Harry squeezes his arms tight around Louis's waist, and Louis thinks, _this is the second parking lot we've stood hugging in_. "Okay," he sighs, "where's this campground?"

"We could find a hotel if you really don't want to."

Louis digs his fingers into Harry's sides, making him giggle. "Fuck off, you bought a bunch of shit, so we're roughing it."

They find the campground easily enough, and their site just before it gets too dark. Louis somehow gets enough cell signal to look up directions for starting a fire in the small fire pit already on the site while Harry sorts out the tent. "Really, do you need help?" Louis asks, watching Harry set the frame on the ground.

"It's only a few poles," Harry says, sounding impressed that the manufacturer has made a tent that seems foolproof. "Think I got it."

Louis gets a fire going, then helps Harry with the part that hooks up to the car. Harry puts the backseat down for more room, says, "Maybe if we climb in through this way we can leave our shoes in the car. I can't wear these boots to sleep in."

Harry's got a small metal kettle and a bunch of bottled water from the sporting goods shop, so he makes them tea. "Those the teabags from the cottage?" Louis asks, taking the cardboard cup Harry passes over.

"I stole them just in case." 

"In case of what, a tea emergency?" Harry gives him a look, and Louis laughs. "Yeah, alright, got me there."

They sit on the wooden picnic table for a few minutes before Harry jumps down, saying he's got something in the car for them. He leans in over the driver's side back seat, his arse sticking out. "Giving me quite the view," Louis calls, and Harry wiggles his bum. Louis can hear him laughing. 

He comes back with his guitar and a small silver flask. "Whisky?"

Louis holds out his cup. "Where were you even hiding that?"

"It was in one of the back seat pockets - I forgot about it. Enough to warm us up a bit more, at least."

Louis is not surprised that Harry's got a random flask of whisky stashed in one of his cars. He drinks his tea and listens to Harry play a few songs. It sounds like mostly older country that Louis isn't too familiar with, but then Harry plays the intro part to Simon and Garfunkel's "America" and glances over. "Know it?"

"Bit on the nose, but yeah, let's." He wraps his arms around his knees and rests his head, watching Harry play, singing along softly in the places he remembers the words. Harry's looking down at his fingers moving on the frets, and the firelight dances over his face. He's not playing very loudly, considerate of anyone else who might have a site nearby. 

He looks up at Louis as the last chord fades out. "You ever think about how sad that song is?"

"Can't sing that last verse and not think about it."

Harry bobs his head. "What else?"

"Do one of our old songs."

Harry makes his thinking face for a moment, then grins. "Niall always used to make fun of me because I couldn't get this one down. So I took some lessons." 

He starts playing "Through the Dark". Louis smiles against his knees and sings along with his eyes closed. When it's done, he takes the guitar carefully from Harry and puts it away in the case. 

"Let's see how comfortable this tent of yours is for real, come on," he says.

Harry stretches, Louis's hoodie riding up. "Gonna wee in the woods first."

"Ah, good plan."

There's enough light from the fire pit that Louis can get a few feet into the trees, hearing Harry rustling around as well. "Don't remember the last time I stood 'round outdoors with me dick in me hand," Louis calls to him, and hears Harry's laughter in response.

They smother over the fire, then climb into the tent through the Range Rover, leaving their shoes in the back. "Least your feet smell better than they used to," Harry says, unfolding the quilt he'd bought in Ukiah by the light of the battery-powered lantern. 

"I really like those trainers and they need socks," Louis huffs. "Also El bought me some foot stuff and that helped."

"I would too if I had to sleep in a bed with you every night for years." 

Louis gives him the finger, then helps him get the quilt the rest of the way spread out. The thick foam mat that makes up the bottom of the tent is enough that he doesn't feel too much like they're sleeping on the ground. He rolls up a sweatshirt and it makes a decent enough pillow. "Shit, I don't feel like I should be this tired, but I am," he says to Harry as they wiggle into the sleeping bags under the quilt.

"Been kind of a long day." Harry leans his forehead against Louis's for a moment, then snuggles close, wrapping an arm around Louis's waist. "Fuck, I didn't brush my teeth."

"I think I can overlook it for once." He kisses Harry's temple. "You smell like whisky besides."

Harry moves even closer, a warm weight. "Mm. Get some sleep, babe."

"Yeah."

  


  


**Monday**

"I'm not sleeping on the ground again," Louis groans, when he wakes up to Harry climbing on top of him while still halfway wrapped up in his stupid quilt. "What are you doing? It's so early."

"It's ten o'clock, love," Harry laughs, very close, and then presses his lips to Louis's firmly for a moment. "The sun is up. The birds are singing in the trees. Do you want to have tent sex?"

Louis opens one eye. "Are you planning on burning the sleep bags?"

Harry shrugs, loose-limbed, so close that all Louis can see is his face. He needs to shave, and there's a spot on the side of his nose. "We can be careful, yeah? Grown-ups, and all that?"

"Grown-ups," Louis huffs. "So what, you'll swallow?"

Harry's grin is wicked, and before Louis can say anything else - he'd played right into that trap, for sure - Harry's sliding down his body, losing the quilt, entirely naked and everything on display. Louis wonders for a second if Harry would have bolted starkers if there was an animal or something else disgusting. 

Of course Harry would jump into the car naked - another great headline.

"You're thinking really loudly, Louis," Harry says.

"You don't blow me every day," Louis replies, then frowns at himself, because that didn't make much sense. 

Harry chuckles, a puff of air against Louis's stomach, and Louis twitches slightly despite himself. "Ssh," Harry breathes. Louis shivers again, feeling his cock thickening. Harry's fingers curl in the waistband of his pants, tugging, and Louis lifts his hips. Harry makes an appreciative noise. 

Heat rushes to Louis's cheeks. "Harry," he whispers, running his fingers through Harry's hair. 

"I want to." Harry takes him into his mouth then, making Louis groan. He's slow about it, and careful, with lots of tongue. Louis feels his eyes roll back when Harry sucks on the head, pressing one arm over Louis's hips so he can't arch up. 

"Jesus, Harry," he breathes, tugging Harry's earlobe. 

"If you'd hold still I could take you all the way."

Louis groans. "Fuck."

He feels sweat beading his hairline as Harry does just that, sinking down slowly, all hot and wet, spit everywhere. Louis looks down at him and sees Harry's eyes are closed in concentration as he breathes through his nose. Louis keeps himself as still as possible but feels his hands shaking where he touches Harry's hair, gently. 

Harry pulls back, breathes for a second, then sinks back down. "Harry, oh my God," Louis groans, the words running together, one tumble out of his mouth. "Shit."

Harry swallows, tight, and Louis hears a ringing in his ears. He pulls Harry's hair. "Get off before I…"

Harry hums his dissent and doesn't move. Louis jerks and swears, sure he must be gagging Harry, but Harry's hands only press down harder on his hips and Louis comes with a harsh gasp, whole body going taut. It's so good it borders on pain, and Harry doesn't pull back right away after he's swallowed, either, so Louis has to push at his face because it's too much sensation. 

Harry sits back in his heels. He looks smug. "Che-eck," he sing-songs, but his voice is rough.

Louis feels like he's melted into the sleeping bag. "You fucker," he mumbles.

Harry laughs at that. Louis watches him wrap a hand around his cock and stroke lazily, gentle with the foreskin, the touch looking light enough that Louis doesn't know how he can even stand it, not want to just close his hand tight and fuck into the circle of it. Harry shuffles up a bit, straddling Louis's thighs, and Louis keeps watching. "You gonna wank off onto me?" he asks, managing to prop himself up on his elbows. 

"Might do," Harry says, rather more off-handedly than Louis thinks this situation deserves. 

"What else, then?"

Harry tightens his grip and speeds up a little. "How about onto your face?"

A hot frisson runs through Louis. "Yeah, sure."

It's easy enough, to close his eyes and tip his head back, to enjoy Harry's audible indrawn breath. "Just warn me first," he whispers, and Harry makes another soft sound. 

Louis listens then, to the wet sound of Harry's hand moving over his cock, those skin-on-skin noises. Listens as the noises from Harry's mouth grow louder and more desperate. He feels like the air in the tent is hot and thick, and sweat prickles on his forehead and in his armpits, even more so than when Harry was sucking him off. 

Harry moans, the sound turning almost to a gasp at the end. "Open your mouth, Louis," he says, sounding wrecked, his low voice even rougher.

Louis does, taking a huge lungful of air just before he feels the first hot splash across his cheek, then a second, then over his mouth and chin. It's salty and bitter. He licks his lips, hears Harry groan sort of distantly, then say, "Fuck, that was crazy. You look… I don't even..."

Louis doesn't move, and Harry stays sitting on his thighs, motionless for what feels like forever. Then Harry says, voice surprised like he's only just realized the mess he's made, "I'll find something to wipe you off with, hang on a minute," and Louis giggles. The hot tension in the air dissolves in an instant. 

He keeps his eyes closed, and Harry comes back with a damp wipe of some sort. Louis lets him clean his face off carefully, still laughing a little. "That was… an experience, yeah," he says when Harry's done and he's opened his eyes again.

Harry grins, flushed. 

"So what are you going to do with the tent?"

"Give it away? I'm sure I can offer it at the place we checked in." Harry wiggles into his trackies, then pulls a shirt over his head.

Louis, tucking himself back into his pants, pauses. "That's my shirt," he says. "Quit stealing my clothes, Styles."

"Less for you to drag home," Harry replies, then climbs out of the tent through the Range Rover, throwing Louis's joggers after him as he goes.

  


The stretch of highway to Harry's last smaller-town stop runs along the coast, and Louis watches the water go by, broken up every little while by stands of pine trees. "Never been one for nature, but it is pretty to look at," he says when Harry pulls the car off the side of the road to take a few pictures of the _Welcome to Oregon_ sign. 

Harry lowers the camera to fix his hair where it's blowing into his face. "Feels really... far away, yeah?"

"Yeah." Louis watches him for a second, then says, "You took a lot of pictures this trip but never any of me."

"I didn't want to unless you said I could."

"You can."

The smile Harry gives him is dizzying and Louis is glad he's already leaning against one of the posts holding up the sign. "I'd love to take your picture, Louis."

"Do it then," Louis says, before he can chicken out of letting Harry document what he's sure is a breathless expression on his face. Harry raises the camera in a flash - _snick_ \- then takes more time adjusting for another. "Hurry it up, I'd like to kiss you," Louis adds, and Harry takes another several in succession, probably because the camera shakes a bit on the first go. 

They make out in the car for a while, Louis's hands in Harry's stupid hair, and he knows objectively that this is all ridiculous, trading kisses on the side of a road. His mouth feels tender when they stop at the sound of a truck rumbling close. "I didn't get a room yet for tonight," Harry murmurs, still close. "Should I get just the one bed?"

Louis nods. If Harry wants, he wants. Funny, how much time he'd spent actively avoiding his own feelings, being daft about admitting yeah, he might like other guys in a sexual way only to end up shagging Harry just for the hell of it. 

Harry pulls back onto the highway, already drumming his fingers on the wheel along with the Beatles album he's put on. "Can I ask you a stupid question?" Louis asks after a while, as they cross a river. 

"All your questions are stupid."

"Fuck off, Harry."

Harry laughs at that, then says, "Ask, Lou."

"Not to like, get into labels or whatever -"

Harry cuts him off with a wave. "I know what you're asking. I'm probably a two, two and a half, on the Kinsey scale. In bed - well, you know. But to be honest with you, I'd rather be in a relationship with a woman."

"How do you know?" Louis asks, honestly wanting to understand.

"I just know." Harry gives a small shrug, then gestures widely with one hand. "Like how you know you love El."

Louis pushes his fringe back. "Do you - do you think maybe I've been overthinking this whole fucking crisis?"

"Maybe? I can't give you a true answer to that one, babe."

"Yeah," Louis sighs. "I guess at least I didn't cock it up too bad with her."

"I think she only wants you to be happy." Harry reaches over and squeezes his arm. "I want you to be happy, too."

"Thanks," Louis whispers, touched. He clears his throat. "Where to next?"

  


"You suffered through the wineries with me, so I thought we could do this as sort of an opposite?" Harry says, making his _I hope you like it_ face and raising his arms towards the front of the brewpub.

"You are entirely ridiculous, outrageous, over the top. Let's do it, mate." Louis is a bit relieved to just do something fun, and hold off on any more emotional conversations for a bit. 

Harry holds the door open and they go in; Louis blinks for a moment going from the fall sunlight to the dimmer interior of the building. There's a guy at a small desk who gives a wave as they step up. "Two for lunch?"

"Please," Harry replies. 

"Could share," Louis suggests once they're seated with the oversized laminated menus in hand. One wall is a window into the actual brewery, copper kettles and the workers on view.

"Sounds good to me." Harry's foot prods his leg under the table. "Tommo. You have to get the Nut Punch."

Louis snorts, skims down to the drinks section of the men to see what Harry's reading. "Apparently it's for dessert."

"A smack in the nads, a good way to end the meal," Harry giggles, and Louis does his best to stifle his own laughter as a server walks up. Harry schools his face into something less mirthful and asks after beer flights, then waves his hand and orders all of them. 

Louis winds up just shy of drunk, Harry a little less since he's driving, and they eat their way through most of the pub's appetizer menu. Harry points a finger at Louis the next time their server comes over and says, "This man would like the Nut Punch."

"No," Louis groans.

"Yes." Harry grins at their server, who appears somewhat charmed but also looks like she's used to dealing with mildly annoying customers. "I'm buying, so you're getting it."

"I hope you're planning to leave a large tip as well."

"'course," Harry says, drawing it out and making a face like he can't believe Louis would imply otherwise. 

The beer cocktail is rich and strong, made with the sort of porter that's nearly a meal itself. It's a bit sweet for Louis's tastes, but he and Harry pass it back and forth. Then Harry slides out of the booth to pay their bill, and Louis pulls out his phone. He takes a picture of the mostly empty glass, the beer foam in a dramatic arc on in the inside and the brewery's logo just barely visible, and posts it to Instagram without a caption. 

"Why are you making that face?" Harry asks, appearing next to him.

"I was going to put 'nut punch' as the caption, and then I thought about how many people would be Googling that, and it's making me laugh." Louis grins up at him. 

"Should have done it." Harry sits down again and puts his feet up on the bench seat next to Louis. "There's an art museum up the street a bit, and a toy store and a gift shop with some glass stuff."

"Where'd you find all this out?"

"Asked what there is to do in this town besides drink."

Louis grins at that and nudges the glass towards Harry so he can finish off the few swallows that are left. Harry does, then wipes his mouth with his hand. "You ready?" he asks, fishing his wallet from his pocket and tucking an assortment of bills underneath the empty glass.

"Gonna hit the toilet first."

Harry waits for him outside. On his way out, Louis sees their server. "Thanks for letting us linger, darling," he says, slipping her a fifty. "Nice place here."

Harry cuts him a look when Louis gets outside. "I remember what you look like when you've just made someone's day, and that is entirely what you look like right now."

"It's a tough job, dealing with drunk blokes your whole night," Louis replies. "God, would you have wanted to deal with us when we were young and idiots?"

"Definitely not, no." 

They leave the car in the restaurant lot and walk the few blocks to the glass shop first. "Harry," Louis says, as they look up at the sign and he realizes what sort of shop this is, "are you going to buy a bong?"

"Might do." Harry pushes open the door. "Since you probably shouldn't go through the airport with one."

"When was the last time you smoked?" Louis murmurs as they wander around the shop, careful of the displays. The one employee waved and offered a cheery hello, but otherwise left them to browse. 

"Couple months ago. You?"

"I can't even remember. Not all summer, in case I had to get Freddie at a moment's notice."

"That might be the most grown-up thing I've ever heard you say," Harry murmurs, and Louis gives him the finger. 

The shop has a dog, a chubby yellow lab who wanders over lazily and nudges Louis' hand. "Hey mate, what's your dog's name?" he asks the employee.

"Britney, like the pop singer," the guy says, grinning. He looks a little stoned, and Louis remembers weed is legal here. "She likes everyone, so it's okay to pet her."

Louis sits on the floor and strokes Britney's soft head while Harry looks at all the things for sale, collecting an armful of little carved boxes and pottery jars with goofy sayings on the side. Someone else comes in and greets the employee by name, and doesn't even glance at him and Harry. 

"I think I'm about done," Harry says after a while. There's a pile of things on the counter in front of him. He looks satisfied with himself.

"I didn't know this trip was about you buying presents for everyone you know," Louis teases, and Harry gives him a distinctly unimpressed look.

  


"I feel like we've gone back in time," Louis whispers to Harry as they head for their hotel room. Or motel room, really. The lodging area stretches in long branches around a parking lot, each door facing outwards individually, and everything is a dull brown. "Or maybe jumped into one of those 'Haunted Attractions in America' sort of lists."

"Ssh," Harry breathes, but Louis can see he's biting at his cheek to stop from laughing. "It's got charm."

Louis shakes his head. "It's probably got ghosts."

Harry unlocks their door and pushes it open. "You're just saying that because you watched five minutes of _The Shining_ the other night."

"Nothing else was on the telly." Louis tosses his bag on one of the beds, then flops down after it, stretching out. He hears Harry go into the loo, and water running after a minute. "You keep booking us all these places that butt up against the road and all I hear is lorries go by all night," Louis calls.

"Weren't a lot of choices in this town," Harry calls back, then yanks the door open. It bounces off the wall, and Harry looks at it in surprise. "I didn't fling it that hard, swear."

Louis looks over at him. "Ghosts, obviously," he says solemnly.

"Are you trying to keep me from sleeping?" Harry says it crossly, but crawls onto the bed next to Louis. "This is our last small-town hotel."

"You know, when you said we'd stop in places kind of out of the way, I almost didn't believe you were serious." Louis reaches over and slides his hand over Harry's stomach, keeping his touch light, wanting to only touch and not mean anything sexual by it right now. "Now I feel like we walked into some sort of... scary Pacific Northwest movie. Bigfoot and ghosts and all that.

Harry grumbles slightly. "'s even next, phantom ships?"

Louis very helpfully does not point out that they are directly across from the harbour, just cuddles closer to Harry for a while. But his phone chimes softly eventually, and he sits up. "I'm going to sit on the walkway out there and call Freddie," he says to Harry.

Harry only waves a lazy hand. "Say hello for me."

Freddie has a thousand and one stories about school again, from the dog he pet on the walk there, to the goldfish that lives in a tank in his classroom, to the blow-up alphabet balloons that they all get to hold while learning to write their letters. Louis could listen to him talk for hours, but eventually he hears Briana in the background calling Freddie to come eat. "I hear your mum calling, lad," Louis says. "It's dinnertime, innit?"

"Gramma made Famous Spaghetti," Freddie replies, the capital letters very clear in his enunciation. Louis doesn't know what this Famous Spaghetti is, but he reminds Freddie it's important to eat a good meal when you're growing. 

"We talked about that at school!" Freddie says. 

Louis is glad that he can afford to send Freddie to a school that tries to teach the good habits. "Well, you want to grow up big and strong, yeah? So you can take those footie lessons next summer like your mum promised?"

"Freddie!" he hears Briana call again, closer this time. "Dinner's going to get cold."

"Better go have your spaghetti," Louis says. "Love you."

"Love you, Dad!" 

The door behind him creaks, and Louis looks over his shoulder to see Harry standing there. "Been eavesdropping long?" Louis asks, but Harry just makes a scrunched-up face, then props the door open with one of his shoes. He sits next to Louis on the walkway, their feet dangling between the iron bars. 

"Freddie alright?" Harry asks after a minute of them both looking out across the highway towards the bay.

"He always has so much to tell me about only one day at school. I don't remember so many things happening just in a single day of primary school."

Harry shakes his head. "Me neither."

Louis shakes a fag from his crumpled pack - the same pack he'd left LA with, so he's not doing half bad on the cutting back - and lights it. He takes couple drags, then offers it to Harry, who shrugs and lifts it carefully from Louis's fingers. 

They pass it back and forth until it's done and Louis grinds it out against the cement, then gets up to flush the butt. "Want to walk down to the harbour?" he asks Harry. "Still light out."

"Sure."

Harry puts his shoes back on and grabs the keycard. The parking lot is mostly deserted as they cross it. Harry's Range Rover is by far the fanciest automobile parked here, most everything else Louis can see are dusty sedans and a scuffed-up pickup truck or two. "I wonder what people do here," he says softly, once they've crossed the highway.

"I'd imagine a lot of fishing." Harry gestures at the water in front of them. "Think I saw online about shipbuilding, too."

"I like the ocean but I don't know if I like the ocean that much."

They walk up the road enough to go cut around the small fence and double back a bit. There's a little rickety bridge, and Harry dares him to climb on it, but before they can get close enough, the ground turns too wet to walk on. "No wonder there's a fence," Harry says, laughing, pushing Louis back towards more solid ground. 

There's a gentle breeze off the water, but it's cool, and Louis pulls his hood up. He stands close to Harry as they watch a few birds circle over the water, now washed orange by the setting sun. "D'you ever regret it, that we never did a reunion tour?" he asks, staring so hard at the sight in front of him that all the colors bleed together and his eyes sting, so he has to close them, and doesn't see Harry reach for him until fingers are sliding through his and squeezing.

"Honest answer? No. I mean, maybe a tiny bit of me says yes, but mostly - no." 

Louis opens his eyes. "What?" 

"I don't wish we'd done a reunion tour," Harry says quietly. "I know - I know you didn't want it all to end like it did. That you felt like we just - stopped."

"We did just stop," Louis insists, squeezing Harry's hand to emphasise it. Harry shakes his head. "What happened to go hard or go home, Harry?

"Think we all still did, after that, only - not together."

" _I_ went home," Louis whispers. 

"No, just took you a bit longer." Harry leans his head on Louis's shoulder, his hair brushing Louis's cheek. "Not like you quit music and went into… shipbuilding."

Louis would laugh at that if he felt like the moment truly deserved it, but right now he just feels quiet and a little bit raw, chilled at the edges except for the places Harry's touching, his hand now gentle in Louis's like an apology he doesn't need to give. 

"Might have been good at shipbuilding," Louis says finally, after the sunset's gone even deeper in tone, and out in the water there are places starting to look a shimmery black. 

"Ha," Harry breathes against his neck. "Wait, though, you probably would have been. Sure you don't want a second career? Sawdust everywhere, sweat making your vest cling all damp to your skin as you - sandpaper, planer, whatever."

Louis snorts, but he puts his arm around Harry's waist. "Thanks, love."

Harry takes a breath and Louis feels him tense, like he's about to say something else, but he only exhales softly and relaxes against Louis some more. The water swallows up the sun with a final bright streak.

  


They're both half-drunk on a bottle of whisky later when Harry gets out his camera. "Thought you wanted me to take your picture," he says when he sees Louis's face.

"I didn't mean nudie pictures."

"Why not? It's not film, I'll delete them tonight, I swear."

"You swear?"

"Lou," Harry says, like he can't believe Louis wouldn't believe him. 

Capitulation is inevitable when Harry's making that face. "Alright, yeah, yeah, alright."

"Anonymous hotel room, good for it, yeah? Get your kit off."

Louis is only wearing his pants and a vest to sleep in, and it's quickly removed. "So what now, I pose?"

"No, you can just -" Harry takes a picture, "- lounge on the bed, watch telly. I can move you."

Louis shivers at that. He leans back down against the pile of pillows, and Harry kneels on the bed next to him, close enough to touch, so Louis presses the backs of his fingers against the side of Harry's knee. This hotel only seems to get a handful of non-local channels, so they turned on the one that was showing _The Dark Knight Rises_ , seemingly on repeat, because Bruce had already returned to save Gotham when they'd put it on, and now Anne Hathaway is kicking the cane out from under Christian Bale. Louis has seen this movie a million times before; he should be able to follow along no problem, but right now he can't wrench his focus from what Harry's doing. 

Which is fiddling with the settings on his camera. "Harry," Louis whispers.

"You're not supposed to be paying attention to me."

"I can't help it."

Harry smiles, that same wicked sex smile he'd given Louis at the cottage. "Too bad. Watch the movie."

Louis groans, but does his best to move his attention. He registers Harry shifting beside him, the click of the shutter once or twice, but then he's overly aware of it again and glancing up. Harry puts a hand on his neck. "No, don't move, Lou."

Louis tries again, this time actively making an effort to ignore Harry and watch the telly instead. It mostly works this time - fuzzily, he thinks that it probably helps that the movie's familiar. "Where'd the bottle get to?" he asks after a few minutes, and Harry passes it over. 

He has a couple swallows, then Harry slides a hand over his bare thigh and moves him, so Louis's knees fall apart. Heat rushes through Louis and he clutches hard at the bottle of whisky, hearing Harry's sharp inhale, the click of the camera. It's all enough to send blood rushing to his dick, and he can't stop from moving restlessly on the bed. 

"Alright, yeah, maybe I do want you to pay attention to this," Harry says, his voice low. 

Louis rolls his shoulders and looks up at Harry, aware of the camera aimed at him. "What should I do?"

"Close your eyes - and tilt your chin up, yeah, a little, like that."

Louis does as instructed, hearing the tiny whirr of the lens as it moves in and out, the clicking sound of pictures being taken. He feels Harry's hand on his hip, pushing him onto his back, and he rolls with it. More camera noises, a soft appreciative noise from Harry. "Gorgeous."

"You are going to delete these for sure, yeah?" He feels a bit groggy, like he's proper drunk already, and not just a bit sloshy.

"Promised I would, didn't I?"

Louis hums. He feels Harry's hand run over his thigh, then lightly over his cock. "Still okay?" Harry asks.

"Yeah."

Another few soft sounds, and then Harry's moving, a knee on either side of Louis's hips, and Louis feels both of Harry's hands run down his chest, so he must have abandoned the camera. "Is there anything we haven't done that you want to try?"

Louis opens his eyes. Harry looks serious. "You know I really didn't expect any of this," he says, instead of answering the question.

"Yeah, I know that," Harry says easily. "So, sex? Yes?"

"Insatiable," Louis mutters. Harry leans down to line their mouths up, and Louis runs his tongue along Harry's bottom lip. He feels Harry's hands taking away the whisky bottle, hears the dull clink of it being set on the nightstand. 

"What happened to deleting the pictures right away?" Louis asks, in between kisses, tracing his fingers over the tattoos that march up the side of Harry's rib cage toward his armpit. Harry squirms, laughing, as Louis adds, "Can't believe all these years and no pap shots of your dick have ended up on the internet."

"I'm careful!" Harry protests, clearly only pretending to sound cross. He pinches Louis's waist, lightly. "But yeah, can't believe it either."

Louis slides his hand down and curls it around the part of Harry currently under discussion, and watches Harry's face change, his eyes closing and his mouth dropping slightly open. "Tighter," Harry whispers. Louis obliges, and Harry leans down for a biting kiss, elbows on the mattress on either side of Louis's head. 

Louis nudges his mouth to Harry's ear. "Good?" he asks. He keeps his strokes smooth as Harry's breaths come faster, only to falter slightly when Harry's teeth scrape hard over his neck. It stings, but in a good way. 

Harry licks over what he's just done, and Louis shivers. "You didn't answer me," he murmurs, right in Harry's ear. 

"Yeah." Harry shifts his leg, pressing his thigh up against Louis's aching cock. "It's good, love, it's good."


	4. Chapter 4

**Tuesday**

Louis drives part of the way to Eugene, graciously allowing Harry to sprawl bonelessly in the passenger seat and drowse. He knows Harry's not entirely asleep, as he occasionally reaches out to change the song they're listening to, but whenever Louis glances over, Harry looks relaxed, the tiny lines in his face smoothed out.

They'd decided to go up the coast and then over, and once they'd gotten over the bridges crossing the bay, it's been mostly long flat stretches of pavement bracketed by tall pine trees. Louis turns on the cruise control for a while and sings along with Franz Ferdinand. 

"Can we stop?" Harry asks after about an hour. "Too much tea with breakfast."

"I think we're really out in the middle of nowhere now, but yeah, yeah, me too." 

Harry fiddles with the map displayed on Louis's phone for a minute, then says, "Guess you're right, it is about ten minutes to a place that might have an actual toilet."

"Could just pull off the road if you really need a wee."

Harry waves a hand. "I'll live. I want a water, too."

They stop at a little market, old enough that the classic Coca-Cola and Pepsi adverts in the windows look sort of rusted around the edges. Tourist crap lines one of the walls, and Harry stops there after using the loo, turning snow globes over in his hand. "There's no more space left in the car," Louis says, even though there is plenty of room. 

Harry gives him a wounded look, pushing out his bottom lip. "This Bigfoot one matches my bobblehead." 

"I worry about how much shit would be cluttering up your dashboard if I wasn't along on this trip."

Harry buys several, then takes the car keys from the pocket of Louis's joggers while giving him a grope. "Oi," Louis protests, halfheartedly slapping at Harry. "Hands off the goods."

"Not what you said last night," Harry breathes in his ear. 

Louis slaps his arm again, making the bag with all the souvenirs jiggle precariously until Harry gets a tighter grip on it. "Stop trying to break my shit." 

"I don't want to look at that awful snow globe the rest of the drive," Louis whines, going for extra-dramatic, even though he doesn't actually care at all. 

"Ah, too bad." Harry runs for the car. 

Their route swings west not too long after that. "Sometimes I still can't believe all the wide-open spaces here," Louis murmurs, watching the landscape pass by out the window. "The space between houses. All these ninety million trees and hills, and we've only seen one other car in the last five minutes."

"Don't think I've done as much driving through nowhere as this trip." Harry adjusts his seat belt and hunches forward a bit, flicking on the wipers after a big bug flies into the windshield. "Gross."

Louis gets that itch in his fingers, wanting to reach over and poke at Harry, but this part of the highway feels narrow and he doesn't particularly want to go off the road where there might not be any other humans to find them for hours. "So you know why I came along on this, getting myself right and all that, but - why'd you want to drive all the way?"

Harry drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. "You ever feel like you're doing something _all the time_?" he asks. "And it's alright, it's still fun, it gives you purpose? And later you think, 'maybe I should have stopped to at least breathe for a minute', because you really haven't had more than thirty seconds alone with your own thoughts in about six months?"

"Not recently," Louis admits. He'd almost rather it did feel like that for him right now. "But I remember it being like that. Is that really it, that you wanted to get lost in the woods for a few days?"

"That about sums it up."

"That's fair, I guess. I can understand that." 

"Normally I like feeling like my life runs about three times the speed of everyone else's," Harry says. "Every so often, though, I need a break."

Louis doesn't point out that Harry's still done work on this trip; that they both have. Instead he says, "Sorry I wouldn't let you go Bigfoot hunting."

Harry laughs at that. "You were probably right about getting lost in the actual woods."

  


The last stretch before Eugene gets sort of curvy, and Harry goes onto a wrong road and swears uselessly at his phone until they figure out they probably should have taken the left-hand curve, and not continued straight. "This is just a regular road," Louis says, as they drive thirty-five through a residential area. "This is like where you got lost in San Luis Obispo."

"I didn't get lost, the directions didn't tell me to turn," Harry protests. "And there should have been a sign."

" _There should have been a sign!_ " Louis mocks, and Harry gives him the finger. "That's my move, lad."

"Fuuuuuuck off," Harry groans. 

Louis feels a bit smug. "See, now you're tired of being in a car with me."

Harry's face softens immediately. "I'm not, though."

"Don't be a mush."

"That house there is for sale," Harry says, pointing, "we could run away together and live in anonymity in whatever the fuck town this is… oh, we're actually in Eugene now."

"No, thanks," Louis replies, and Harry grins. 

Harry turns right and goes a few blocks, then turns left, and left again. "I found this music shop online," he says, yanking the car into a lot and parking it, "and it looked like they had a lot of cool guitars."

"I could look at guitars."

The shop seems much bigger inside than it looks from the front, with an immense array of guitars hanging from nearly every wall, and a small alcove with what looks to Louis like folk instruments. They both head for the acoustic section, but most of the way there, Harry starts to drift towards the alcove. "Do you think I could rock a banjo?" he asks, catching Louis by the wrist and pulling him along.

"You know, I think you could, yeah," Louis replies. "I was going to look at that Gibson over there, though."

"Ah, fine, I'll find you." Harry lets go of him. 

Louis gets distracted from eyeing the electric archtop by a woman with purple hair and a man in bell-bottoms who are looking at at a shiny drop top electric that's laid out on top of a case. "You look interested," the woman says to him, beckoning him over. "We just got it in today, brand new Tom Anderson."

"Right in with the hard sell, Alina, damn," the guy says. To Louis, he says, "Sorry, we both work here, which usually means arguing about guitars all day. I'm Bryce, and she's Alina. You do look intrigued, though. And… you look famous." His eyes widen. "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, the other one with me is more famous," Louis replies, but he has to laugh. Harry seems to still be lost to the banjos. "It is really eye-catching. Didn't Keith Richards play one of these?"

"I think so," Alina says, and yanks her phone from her pocket. "Lemme look that up, because now I need to know for sure."

"You want to play it?" Bryce asks.

Before Louis can decide, Harry bounds over holding a banjo. "Oh, that's sweet," he says, looking at the Anderson over Louis' shoulder. 

"Oh, shit," Alina and Bryce say at the same time. 

"Hi, I'm Harry," Harry says, grinning. "Can I get this banjo?"

"Can you," Bryce replies. "I mean, we would be happy to sell you this banjo, and anything else you find intriguing. Sorry, we get a lot of locally well-known musicians, but not too many record-breakers. Cool to meet you both. You want to play it for a minute before you buy?"

Louis turns back to Alina as Harry goes with Bryce to one of the soundproof rooms. "If you want to play it, I'll set you up," she says, gesturing at the guitar. 

He looks down at the slick, trippy black and white patterned surface and runs his fingertips lightly over it. "What the hell, yeah, let's try it out."

  


This hotel looks more like the sort of place Louis expects Harry to stay at - art installations made out of real living plants on the walls, large dispensers of fruit-infused water available in the lobby, a giant glass sculpture near the staircase. The whole place looks lush with flowers in vases and richly colored carpets where it's not a dark wood. 

"This is definitely a Harry Styles special," Louis says as they pass the pool area, which looks to be almost entirely enclosed in frosted glass.

"I can't believe you didn't appreciate last night's model of mid-eighties American motor travel," Harry replies. "Like, where are the ghosts in this hotel? Nowhere, because there are no ghosts in this hotel."

"You're awfully hung up on ghosts," Louis needles.

"I'm going swimming without you."

"You're not."

"I would say I can't believe you bought a banjo," Louis says fifteen minutes later, floating in the deep end of the pool. "Except I can."

Harry's not doing real laps tonight since there are a few people at the other end of the pool, but he backstrokes away from Louis for a few yards, then comes back. "It's a very nice one. And I texted Mitch about it, and he said he wanted to use it. But he made like fifteen of the crying laughing emojis first."

"I'm very excited for you to use it on this album," Louis says solemnly. Harry pushes his shoulder, turning him partway into the water for a second. "Hey!"

"Don't mock my banjo. I can't believe you bought that electric."

"It's nice."

"I thought you actually might make the shopgirl cry when you said you'd take it." Harry floats up next to him. "I hope they get decent commissions."

Louis moves his arms so that he turns in a gentle circle. "You know what you want to do when you get to the studio?" he asks as they brush by one another.

"No. But I don't mind that I don't. It's - odd, I guess. The last one went so hard with such a specific purpose that I almost want to make something lazy."

"Lazy how?"

"Not like, being crap about playing the music. But like - chill. Like if you took the feeling floating in this pool and made music that went with the feeling. Or like, when we were driving through all those state parks and it was only us and the road and the trees." Harry's hand slips into his. "Does that make sense?"

"I think so." 

They float in the pool a while longer without saying much of anything, and when Louis goes to get out, Harry follows without a word. Back in their room, Harry says, "You can shower first, I need to write down the stuff in my head," so Louis does.

When he's done, Harry's still writing, so Louis puts on his pyjamas and pulls up flights out of Portland on his phone, seeing if any are leaving tomorrow. There's one in the early evening, which would give them plenty of time to get to the airport even if they don't leave Eugene until after lunch. He thinks briefly about staying one more night with Harry in Portland, but Harry's got his own stuff planned, and it's time for Louis to go home. 

"Alright there?" he hears Harry ask, and realizes he's been looking at the screen without otherwise moving. 

"Yeah, just booking my flight, yeah."

"Cool." Harry sets his notebook aside. "I'm gonna shower."

Louis organizes his bags into something less of a shambles, one to check with all his laundry, and the other with all his cords and notebooks. Then he orders them room service, figuring out what Harry would get without much trouble. Harry's out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and towel around his head, when the food arrives. 

"When's your flight?" Harry asks, around a mouthful of salmon.

"Five-fifteen tomorrow."

"Alright."

They leave the tray outside the door when they're done, and Louis curls up next to Harry on the bed, not even looking at what Harry's flipping through on the telly. "I don't feel like I should be this tired, but I'm tired," he says, leaning his forehead against Harry's shoulder.

"We have kind of covered a bunch of emotional bases on this trip," Harry replies. "You know?"

"You're not wrong."

Harry shifts, humming something to himself, then comes back to lean slightly over Louis. "Here, move just a little," he says, pushing at Louis until he rolls onto his back. Then Harry lifts one of Louis's arms, gently, above his head so his hand is resting on the pillow. 

"What's that?" Louis asks, as Harry holds up the pen he'd been writing with and uncaps it.

"Gonna just… do a thing…" Harry whispers, and starts drawing something on Louis' arm.

"What are you doing?" Louis asks, after the sensation of Harry drawing something on his arm has lasted more than a few seconds. He cranes his neck, and can see Harry looking intently at what he's doing, but can't see what's actually going onto the skin. "What are you drawing on me?"

"Music, ssh." 

"What music?"

"Quiet, so I don't mess up." Harry's other hand comes up to pin Louis's shoulder to the bed. "Just let me."

Louis figures it's best to relax, let Harry draw whatever he's drawing. The pen is felt-tipped, and isn't pulling at his skin like he remembers a ballpoint would. It starts to feel sort of soothing, and Harry's concentrating, so he doesn't talk. Louis listens to both of them breathe and the soft sound of the pen. It feels like Harry is drawing little circles and filling them in, which makes sense.

"What song are you putting on me?" he asks after a while; it's been long enough that Harry must be carefully drawing several lines' worth.

"The Simon and Garfunkel."

Louis knows what he means. "Really, Harry?"

"Fits though, yeah?" Harry leans back and looks down at him, meeting his gaze.

Louis has to admit it does. "Yeah."

"I could probably draw Bigfoot, if you wanted."

Louis huffs. "No."

Harry fills in a few more notes, then caps the pen. "There."

Louis scrabbles for his phone, and holds it towards Harry. "Take pictures of it, so I can get it done for real."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

"I messed up in a few spots, couldn't remember all the notes exactly for that line," Harry says, sounding apologetic.

"I'll get it fixed up before it's permanent," Louis laughs. "Just take some pictures, mate."

Harry leans down to press their mouths together briefly before he has Louis turn his arm this way and that to get all the angles. "Let me see," Louis demands when he's done. "Been a long time since I've gotten new ink to commemorate something."

Harry passes the phone over, and Louis flicks through the pictures. The staff lines go around his arm, and he hums the notes. "Yeah," he breathes, "it'll be perfect, Harry, I know you were just fucking around but I love it."

Harry kisses him hard enough to knock them both over onto the pillows. Louis tugs his hair lightly and bites gently at his lip, then says, "What about you, did you find what you wanted on this trip?", stroking a thumb over Harry's ear.

"This has been perfect." Harry turns his face into Louis's palm and presses a kiss there. "Thank you."

  


  


**Wednesday**

Portland is mostly sunny, and perfect weather to walk around in for a while after Harry checks into his hotel. "Are you the first one here?" Louis asks as they head down the block, glad for the chance to stretch a little before getting on an airplane.

"I think so, yeah. We booked a rehearsal space starting next week, and the studio after that. It's me and Mitch, and Claire's back for this one, and Ryan, too." He smiles, then shrugs a shoulder. "I've never been this unprepared before so I'm scared, but also excited to see what we put together, _together_."

"I'm sure it'll be great, Harry," Louis says honestly. "I love that you're trying to change it up."

They walk a few more blocks without saying much. There's an empty park on the same side of the street that they're on, so Louis veers into it, and Harry follows him. There are swings, so they fuck around on those for a while. The wind rushes against Louis's face and he closes his eyes, savoring the weightless feeling right at the apex. 

He drags his heels in the sand to stop, then looks at Harry. "This was good, yeah?"

"It was good," Harry says. He squints upwards at the clouds. "I felt like like… the world we were in got smaller and smaller, until it was only us and the sky. And then the world got bigger again." 

He looks at the tall buildings on either side of the park, the sunlight playing over his face. He looks happy, content, and he really needs to shave. Louis reaches out to poke at Harry's stubbly chin, but Harry only laughs and says, "I'm happy you came with me."

"Me, too." Louis tucks his hands in his hoodie pockets and thinks about what Harry just described, how he'd felt it as well. How everything had narrowed down to that single point, when they'd been sitting on that rickety picnic table at the campground, looking up at the stars, and Louis felt like the whole rest of the world dropped away. Like it disappeared between one breath and the next, the only thing left was Harry pressed warm along his arm and the wood beneath their bums. 

He sticks his foot out to nudge at Harry's now. "Love you, Har, but I'm not sure us being the only two people left in the universe would be me first choice."

"Good, because me neither."

"You really finish any lyrics?"

"Enough to start with." Harry stands up from the swing, then crouches to to re-tie his boot. "I think it'll be good. What about you?"

Most of Louis's notebook is vague thoughts, notes about the very specific way sunlight hit off the waves at one of the beaches they stopped at, the things he'd felt when he was awake in the bed in Coos Bay and Harry was asleep next to him still damp with sweat. "The bones of a couple things, I think. Maybe."

"How about the other stuff, you sort it?"

Louis shrugs. "I don't think I'm going to go around announcing to everyone I'm bisexual, least not right now, but I think I've sorted out enough to stop having a cry in't shower."

"Nothing wrong with a cry now and then." Harry hugs him around the shoulders. "And Eleanor?"

"Gonna go home to her, yeah," Louis says. 

Harry grins, delighted, and smacks a kiss to Louis's temple as they walk out of the park. "You always were a right bastard without her."

"Oi!" Louis protests, but Harry's not wrong. 

Harry's phone beeps. He makes a face at it and mutters something about Mitch and guitars before replying to whatever the text is. "Should probably get you to the airport, yeah?" he asks when he's done.

Louis's flight leaves in just under three hours. "Yeah, probably should. I could get a cab, though."

"I can drive you."

"Guess my arse needs to say goodbye to the passenger seat," Louis replies. 

"There's probably a permanent dent," Harry says, laughing, and Louis elbows him lightly for that. 

Harry's phone says it's a twenty-minute drive to the airport, and he puts on Springsteen but keeps the volume low. "Sort of can't believe this trip is over," Louis says, reaching to grip Harry's hand.

"I did get sort of used to the anonymous feel of it." Harry makes a considering face. "You're glad to be going back to London?"

"I am, yeah. I love Freddie, so much, but LA - just not me place in the world."

Harry turns his hand over to squeeze Louis's. "I get that."

"Thanks for being - cool about everything, I guess," Louis says, because he feels like it needs to be said. 

"We didn't do anything I didn't want to do, love." He takes the exit for the airport, then follows the signs for international departures. "Text me when you get home? So I know you made it."

"Of course."

"And let me know how it all goes with El." 

Harry's flushing a little, and Louis can't help but grin. "You know I'm going to tell her all the details."

"I know, I know." He brakes, then goes around a few cars. "What are you on?"

"Delta."

It's just up ahead. Harry squeezes the Range Rover as close to the curb as he can get it. "I, um," Louis mutters, suddenly not sure what to say.

"Love you, Louis," Harry says, quickly cupping his jaw. "Always will. Text me, alright?"

"Alright." That's easy enough to say. "Love you, too."

He gets out, and grabs his bags and the guitar from the back of the car. In the rearview mirror, he meets Harry's eyes for a moment, and Harry smiles and lifts his hand in a wave. Louis smiles back, then closes the hatch. On the sidewalk, he watches until Harry can pull back into the flow of traffic. Then he turns around and the automatic doors slide open, and he walks through.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions I asked myself while writing this: "Why are they in the woods so much?", "Why is there not more information on this Bigfoot museum website?", "Is this too much landscape description?", and "Why is this Yelp reviewer so mad about their bagel?". 
> 
> Every place they stop in this story actually exists. I have been to some of them and not others. There is a stretch of Oregon where the Street View is ten years old, so you _can_ go back in time.


End file.
